
•^0^ 

.-«-' 



H^^ 



. , . • ^<^^ 












^'\" " 



^^^<- 







<> *: 









4 O • 




o > 




k4 



^^^ 































^oV 




k4 



^9^ 



.^^ ^o 






A*^ ... -^. 




<> *'••»' .,0 



C" V 












40^ • 





^^c^^ppL- c^. M^^j^^^- 



Blossoms by the Wayside 



VE% SES 

BY 

MIIvDRED S. McFADEN 



Lije is so glad, so beautiful; 

So bright with blossoms by the wayside. 




KANSAS C ITY 

HUDSON-KIMBERI^Y PUBLISHING CO, 

1904 



LIBRARY of CONGRtSsJ 


Two Copies 


rteceived 


DEC 19- 


i904 


Copyri^c entry 
cuss Ct XXc Hq\ 

COPY B. J 






./|a,^ 



(i^o^- 



Copyright; by 
MILDRED S. McFADEN, 
1904. 



) 

^ TO 

' My Sister Lizzie, 

WHO HAS BEEN MORE THAN SISTER TO ME AND MINE, 

THIS LITTLE VOLUME 

IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED. 



THANKS ARE DUE 

THE CHAPERONE MAGAZINE, 

LIFE, TRUTH, TRAVEL, THE AMERICAN 

woman's review, AND OTHER JOURNALS 

FOR PERMISSION TO RE-PRINT A NUMBER OF THE 

POEMS IN THIS COLLECTION. 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

Foreword 7 

The Ivory City 9 

Autumn Reflections 10 

Two Rings 13 

Legend of the Golden Poppy ... 14 

"The Conquerors" 16 

Two Pictures '. 18 

The Peer of Kings 19 

In a Hammock 19 

Sparrows 20 

"When Knighthood Was in Flower" 21 

The Mound City 22 

Trusting 24 

You and 1 26 

Lines 27 

Twenty Beautiful Years 28 

Shadow and Sunshine 30 

Boating Song 31 

The Passion Flower 36 

Home-Coming of Admiral Dewey 37 

Changed 38 

Ode to Minnehaha Falls 40 

Faith, Hope, and Charity 41 

The Bard of Babyland 43 

Long Ago 44 

An Easter Carol 45 

The New Year 45 

Only 46 

■ Missouri, Old Missouri 47 

Legends of the Hot Springs of Arkansas 48 

Snowbirds 52 

A Notable Woman 53 

Don't Surrender 54 

Elfin Dale 55 

At the Altar 56 

The Sunflower 57 

The Louisiana Purchase . 53 

The Mammoth Cave of Kentucky 68 

An Ideal Woman 59 

Sweet Singer of the Southland 59 

June Roses — 60 



Contents, 

Page 

A Tiny Comforter 61 

Somewhere 62 

An Easter Idyl 68 

Tone Pictures 64 

On the Mississippi 66 

The Mag-ic of April 67 

"Old Glory" 68 

Queen Victoria 70 

Requiescat 71 

Life's Heroines 71 

Crabapple Blossoms 72 

Thanksgiving at the Old Homestead 73 

Utah and Her Emblematic Flower 76 

Rex McDonald 78 

A Memory *79 

A Sweet Southern Blossom 80 

Sea Dreams ... 81 

Song of January 82 

Song of March 85 

Song of April 86 

Song of May 87 

Song- of June •• 88 

Song of July 89 

-August 90 

September 91 

Song of October 92 

Song of November 93 

Peace 94 

Forget-Me-Nots • 95 

The Little Brown Hare 96 

Voices of Love 98 

Love's Messengers 99 

Helen 100 

A Tiny Queen 101 

The Star of Bethlehem 102 

Afterword 105 



FOREWORD. 

Why do I sing? Because my soul 

Is full of melody and love, 
Which bubble o'er, beyond control, 

To seek their place — below, above. 
Because my heart is oft so glad 

Its sleeping notes to rapture wake; 
And when, despite me, it grows sad, 

I sing again to soothe its ache. 

The lark flies forth when night is done 

And shakes the moisture from his wings; 
He rises up to meet the sun. 

And as he soars he gladly sings. 
But sweetest note of nightingale 

Is heard when darkness, like a pall, 
Lies brooding over hill and vale. 

And silent dewdrops lightly fall. 

Then let me sing, in joy or pain, 

Tho' simple be my heartfelt lay; 
Some tender note within the strain 

May cheer a weary soul to-day. 
Some one I love may hear my voice, 

Tho ' far away, and courage take; 
Because I sing, perchance rejoice 

And listen for the singer's sake. 



THE IVORY CITY. 

(A Tribute to the Builders of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition. 

'T^HERE come to me oft in my dreamings 

Fair visions of beauty divine. 
Too subtle for speech or expression 

These radiant visions of mine. 
Tho' they come like the flash of a star-gleam — 

Elusive as breath of a flower — 
And vanish like v/hir of a bird wing, 
My soul e'er responds to their power. 

But never in all of my dreamings 

Have I fancied a vision more rare 
Than the matchless glory and splendor 

Of the "Ivory City" so fair. 
A city where art stands triumphant 

In sculpture, in color, in form. 
In symbol, unique allegory — 

A picture the senses to charm. 

Transcending the delicate colors 

That blend in the middleday noons; 
The tinkle of musical fountains, 

And sea-tinted, rhythmic lagoons. 
Is dusk-time, when purple-hued shadows, 

Dropped down from the wings of the night. 
Proclaim, with their roseate heralds, 

Electra, the Goddess of Light! 

9 



The Ivory City, 

Oh, witchery beyond all describing! 

Oh, mystical, magical power, 
Transforming to glory resplendent 

Each minaret, turret and tower! 
Entranced I gaze till my fancy 

Transports me to Patrcos of old 
And behold I, with John the beloved, 

The heavenly City of Gold! 

My bosom is thrilled with emotion, 

With joy that this city so real, 
Conceived and wrought out by mortals. 

Expresses but human ideal; 
And proves that each soul is e'er trending 

Toward beauty and harmony here — 
My own, beauty-loving, surrenders 

And I pay it my tribute — a tear! 



A 



AUTUMN REFLECTIONS. 

HINT of melancholy broods 
In perfect autumn days. 
When dreamy Indian summer 

Spreads out its purple haze; 
When over field and fallow 

The yellow daisies nod 
And droop their dark eyes shyly 
Before the goldenrod; 



10 



A utumn Reflections. 

When gold and crimson banners 

Flaunt bravely o'er the wood, 
In token that Dame Nature 

Is riotous in mood — 
But paint she e'er so reckless, 

There is pathos in her theme — 
A subtle touch of sadness 

In her gorgeous color scheme. 

For backward lies the springtime, 

Its blossoms and its song, 
And pulsing heart of promise 

Which to that time belong; 
And backward, too, the summer. 

Its beauty and its bloom. 
Its golden hours of labor. 

Its fullness and perfume. 

But now that mellow autumn 

In splendid beauty stands. 
And bears the precious fruitage 

Of the year within her hands; 
'Tis Nature's royal carnival — 

Tho' winter bleak must come — 
She robes herself in splendor 

To greet the "harvest home." 

Thus to each human being 

Comes a melancholy time. 
When youth's sweet springtime lies behind. 

And life has reached its prime. 
When we have gained the summit. 

And stand, perchance with pride, 
We see our pathway winding 

Adown the other side. 



11 



Autumn Reflections. 

What tho' in springtime we have sown 
The precious seeds of truth — 

In summer toiled that we might reap 
The promises of youth — 

What tho' the peaceful autumn 
Crown us with treasures rare. 

And glint and sheen of glory- 
Surround us everywhere? 

There still remains a pathos 

No argument can smooth, 
A dread of life's declining 

No philosophy can soothe; 
We plead not for our childhood. 

Nor for our bounding youth, 
But for our prime — our autumn — 

With sheaves of garnered truth. 

Yet, after autumn, winter; 

And after youth comes age; 
Tis Nature's law, and falls alike 

On imbecile and sage. 
But folded close to winter's heart 

There sleep the flowers of May, 
And through the portals of life's night 

We pass to realms of day. 



12 



TWO RINGS* 

'HP HE first ring she wore was a plain golden band, 
And proudly it shone on her fair girlish hand; 
A hand that was dimpled and shapely as well, 
With palm rosy-pink as the lips of a shell. 
The lo'\'er who gave her this circlet of gold 
Gave with it his heart, with its treasures untold; 
And ardently vowed: "My darling, to you 
I will ever be faithful and tender and true." 

Oh, work-a-day world, how enchanting it seems 
When crowned with the halo of roseate dreams! 

No maiden was ever more happy, I trow. 

No lover more earnest in breathing a vow. 
And yet. in only a few fleeting years 
The sunny dream ended in sorrow and tears; 

For he who could make all the world seem a- tune 

Faded away with the roses of June. 

The years, airy-winged, have flitted away. 
Another ring gleams on her fair hand to-day; 
A shimmering opal in whose lambent rays 
*Tis said that the soul of a pure woman plays. 
And diamonds resplendent, translucent and white, 
Encircle it 'round with a prism of light; 
And he who bestows it says: 'No gem can be 
Half precious enough, my dear one, for thee.*' 

A man in Life's noonday is wooing her now. 
His soul understands how sacred his vow; 
He feels the sweet burden, as every man must, 
Of proving his fitness for woman's full trust. 
As she looks in his eyes there comes to her view 
A soul that is noble, com.manding, and true; 

She turns from the past, with its memories blest, 
And enters, storm-tossed, a haven of rest. 
13 



LEGEND OF THE GOLDEN POPPY. 

(Emblematic Flower of California.) 

T ONG years ago Dame Nature stood 
-'-'Majestic in her motherhood 

Of countless children, blithe and free. 
Sprites of the wood, nymphs of the sea; 
When over California's strand 
Was seen no trace of human hand — 
Unless, perchance, of savage wild. 
Untamed and free, he, too, her child. 
Ere Juniperi chanted hymn 
Or told his beads in cloisters dim; 
Ere any sbip, by any fate, 
Had drifted through the Golden Gate. 

Yet all was life, glad, joyous life; 
In Nature's realm there was no strife; 
The wild birds held their carnivals 
Of roundelays and madrigals; 
Wooed by the zephyr's rhythmic tune. 
The fairies danced beneath the moon. 
With twinkling feet, till rosy dawn 
Would bid each reveler begone. 
Queen Mab, on such primeval night. 
Had held her court. As elf and sprite 
Departed for their leafy dell. 
She gave to each a lily bell, 
Brimful, as ever it would hold. 
Of tiny seeds as bright as gold: 
"My faithful subjects, as you go 
With lavish hand I bid you sow." 

14 



Legend of the Golden Poppy. 

In airy flight all o'er the land, 
They heeded well their queen's command; 
When lo! a miracle behold, 
A carpet spread of cloth-of-gold! 
A carpet wove in fairy looms 
And patterned o'er with poppy blooms; 
Gay blossoms with such beauty rife 
The fairies kissed them into life. 
Bestowing this transcendent boon, 
They fell into delicious swoon; 
A svvoon of semi-conscious death 
Wrought by the poppies' subtle breath. 
Thus in each poppy heart, they say, 
A drowsy fairy dreams to-day. 



But days of mystic fairy lore 

In California-land are o'er; 

The golden poppy blooms at will 
O'er scented vale and crested hill; 

It flaunts its silken banners true 

From mountainside to ocean blue; 
And dances down each glade and dell 
Bewitching all within its spell. 

What fitting symbol of that State 
Where golds and golds predominate! 

The golden fruits and golden flowers; 

The golden dreams of golden hours; 
The golden flow of golden wine — 
The fev'rish gold of '49 

That still shines on, in rock and sand. 

The lode-stone of that golden land 
Which Nature formed, by mystic powers, 
"The land of sunshine and of flowers." 

15 



'THE CONQUERORS/* 

Suggested by Pierre Frietel's Great Painting.) 

' STAND before "The Conquerors'' — 

The greatest ones of all; 
They look forth grim and splendid 

Prom the canvas on the wall. 
I see their gorgeous trappings, 

Accouterments of war, 
And spears of legions gleaming 

Adown the distance far. 

And as this mighty phalanx. 

Of warrior-kings of old, 
Comes out from sleeping centuries 

With visage stern and bold, 
I catch a plaintive echo 

From far-off, vanished years, 
P'or with the songs of triumph 

And mingled groans and tears. 

I hear the blare of trumpets 

Along the Euphrates, 
As routed from Carchemish 

The Egypt cohort llees. 
And far beyond the Danube 

I see the battle scars; 
Deep wrought by him who wielded 

The Iron S'word of Mars. 

16 



''The C onquerors.'* 

And from the fair Khorassan, 

In Oriental land, 
I hear the tramp of horsemen 

To India's sunny strand. 
I see the Tiber city 

As hosts of Cfesar come 
To celebrate his conquest 

Of all the world, in Rome! 

Then coming nearer, nearer. 

In solemn, mute array; 
"TJiere are no Alps," in fancy, 

I hear Napoleon say. 
And thus strange thoughts and visions 

Flit through my dizzy brain, 
As rides this silent phalanx 

Through ranks of millions slain! 

Oh, Time-immortal victors, 

Tho' dead, you live to-day; 
And tho' you live, you still are dead 

As those your hordes did slay. 
How pitiless j^our triumphs 

The Prince of Peace shall prove, 
When all the world is conquered 

Through gentleness and love. 



TWO PICTURES. 
I. 

gNLIGHTENED land, of all the earth most fair; 
A happy home all sweet and pure and bright; 

The fabled stork, in wandering one night. 
Went in and left its precious burden there. 
Oh, wondrous treasure, rich beyond comparel 

Tho' but a tiny, helpless human mite, 

'TwaF, in that home a ray of heavenly light— 
For every grace of life abided there. 
Can it be Destiny? This fledgling's youth, 

Environed so by lo\^e and wisdom's ways, 

Was guided, guarded, nurtured, taught to praise, 
Revere and honor freedom, justice, truth. 

A child of Love! None worthier than he 

Columbia's chief executive to be! 



IL 



Benighted land, of all the earth most drear; 

The hovel of a serf, all grim and poor; 

The good stork paused before the lowly door 
And, sighing, left its precious burden there. 
Unwelcome gift, yea, poor beyond compare! 

The helpless waif was but one burden more, 

A pensioner upon the scanty store — 
For every curse of life abided there. 
Can it be Destiny? No word of love 

E'er fell, low-murmured, on the tiny ear; 

iNO v/hispered prayer, no tender mother's tear, 
In holy tribute paid to Heaven above! 

A child of Hate! In Nature's sequence, he 

Naught but a fiend incarnate well could be! 

18 



THE PEER OF KINGS. 
(To Hon. David R. Francis.) 
I^HE Fathers of our Liberty declare, 
'*' "All men, by right, are free and equal." Still, 
Tho' democrats at heart, with pride we thrill 
That you, cur countryman, so well do fare 
With royalty; that kings no favors spare 

To honor you; and with most gracious will 
Lend earnest aid yonr mission to fulfill — 
Aye, proud to share the great emprise you bear. 
Columbia's son, the peer of kings are you. 

Who, step by step, have gained exalted height; 
Not by "the right divine," but manhood's right 
To dream ambitious dreams and prove them true. 
The laurel wreath, self-woven, that you wear 
Entitles you the grace of kings to share. 

IN A HAMMOCK. 

A SUMMER day. In idle, restful ease 
Within a swaying hammock swinging slow, 
Beneath wide locust-branches drooping low, 
I lie in dreamful mood. All o'er the trees 
The leaves dance lightly to the sun-kissed breeze; 
Up through green-latticed boughs the blue skies glow. 
And drooping like an airy azure bow, 
They wrap tentwise the wide-spread locust trees. 
And as I dream, this tranquil summ.er day. 
The soft wind sings a tender, wooing song 
That swells in rhythmic whispers all day long; 
Entranced, I listen to the wordless lay 
Till, one by one, Life's sorrows all depart, 
And leaVe me nestled close to Nature's heart. 

19 



SPARROWS. 

T> ROWN-coated little sparrows, there in my snowball-tree, 

Your ceaseless chatter, chatter, jperylexing is to me; 
What is the wondrous story you struggle to relate? 
Oh, is it naughty gossip or a wrangle with your mate? 

Are you everyone debating where your cosy nests shall be? 

And does each saucy chirper crave the snowball-tree, 
Because in early summer its blossoms and its leaves 

Will shelter o'er so snugly your nests beneath the eaves? 

Oh, noisy-throated sparrows, there in my snowball-tree. 
Does the winter sunshine cheer you and fill your hearts 
with glee? 

A.nd is your chatter, chatter, a brave attempt to sing, 
Because the warm sun thrills you with promises of Spring? 

Or has some gay Miss Sparrow, the fairest of your brood, 
Forgetful of decorum, while seeking daily food. 

Been guilty of bold flirting with artful Mr. Wren, 
Till snowbirds spread the scandal through orchard, vale, 
and glen? 

I 'm sure it must be gossip that fills you with regret — 
Some disregard of bird form — some breach of etiquette, 

For all at once you chatter, chatter, all day long; 

That 's why I fear that gossip 's the burden of your song. 

But if I misinterpret your much-perplexing words. 
Forgive my accusation, my suspicion, little birds; 

For whatsoe'er the motive in your conference may be. 
Into a Tower of Babel you turn my snowball-tree. 

20 



**WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER.' 



T READ entranced a romance of the hour 

So sweet that Time doth vanish as a scroll; 
Four centuries their sleeping years unroll, 

And Mary Tudor, with all her witching dower 

Of beauty, stands before me. Wondrous power 
Was hers — enthralling senses, spirit, soul, 
And leading captive, aye, beyond control, 

The hearts of men when knighthood was in flower. 
I see her passion and her purity; 

The struggles fierce where pride and love take part; 

The tilts 'twixt princess and her woman's heart; 
Nor do I wonder at the bold emprise 
Of knights to win a smile from her bright eyes. 



II. 

Alas! this royal maiden; cruel fate; 

Tho' swayed she England's King, there came a time. 

For love's sweet sake, patrician crime, 
Renounced she love to wed one she did hate. 
Nor scarcely deemed the sacrifice too great. 

Reglna Mary; merciless, serene; 

Not wife of Prance's monarch, tho' his queen, 
A hapless victim of affairs of State! 
But Time is kind, and love, true love, ne'er dies; 

Death claimed at last the imbecile old King. 

Like prisoned bird set free, on airy wing, 
A waiting knight to loyal Mary flies. 

He proudly stoops to kiss her garment's hem, 

As Love opes wide his mystic courts to them. 

21 



THE MOUND CITY. 

IT' NOW you a city that sits like a queen 

*" Enthroned on her mounds, complacent, serene, 
Whose coronet woven of turrets and spires 
Flashes and gleams in the sun's golden fires? 
Her robe so resplendent is spread to full view 
That all may consider its wonderful hue; 
Benignly she smiles as she looks down to greet 
The noble old river that kisses her feet. 

Know you this city, the fairest and best? 
'Tis stately St. Louis, the gem of the West; 
A beautiful valley, whose fame is world-wide, 
Its heart is her home and she is its pride. 
Securely she rests in this garden of earth. 
Under dominion of home and of hearth, 
Where Nature enfolds her with beautiful arms, 
And sets on her brow the seal of her charms. 

St. Louis, in whose sturdy fingers are laid 
The vast enterprises of commerce and trade; 
That every resource should add to her weal 
The country is banded with ribbons of steel; 
O'er mountain and valley, from shore unto shore, 
The products of earth are brought to her door; 
And like a good sovereign, doing her best, 
Distributes with justice to East and to West. 

With earliest note of earliest bird 
The hum of her industries' music is heard; 
Great columns of vapor unceasingly rise 
As engines and scissors and needles she plies. 
From prairies and woodlands come train after train. 
Each bearing its burden of cattle and grain; 
While low at her docks the white barges lay 
Freight-laden to sail o'er her proud water-way. 
22 



The Mound City. 



St. Louis, tho' peerless as trafficking mart, 

Is never oblivious to culture and art. 

Her lofty ideal of Beauty she marks 

In grancl architecture and beautiful parks. 

And in her Shaw's Garden, whose fairylike bowers 

Are fragrant with perfume of earth's sweetest flowers; 

For one of her children has left for all time 

His message of love in blossoming rhyme. 

Another has left his message in stone, 

A structure devoted to Fine Art alone — 

A palace artistic — Oh, long may it stand 

A monument reared to his generous hand! 

In steel yet another has written his thought. 

Oh, wonderful brain where the image was wrought! 

A marvel of great engineering and skill, 

A riVer subdued to man's earnest will. 

Know you St. Louis, where year after year 
Magnificent pageants in splendor appear? 
Where the mighty Veiled Prophet, from Orient land, 
Comes with his retinue gorgeous and grand? 
Where soft Indian Summer — her Carnival time — 
With music and pleasure lilts on like a rhyme? 
The multitude thronging and surging her streets 
With hearty good-will she cordially greets. 

St. Louis, progressive, substantial, and great, 

With courage sufficient to meet every fate; 

Responsive always to call of distress 

Of others — aye, willing and eager to bless — 

And yet, when to her great calamity came, 

Assistance was proffered, with kindliest aim; 

In words of her maj^or,* her true lustre shone; 

"St. Louis is ahle to care for her own.." 

*Mayor Walbridge. 

23 



The M ound City. 

A recompense worthy has come to her now; 
Glory and honor adorn her fair brow; 
A beautiful hostess, she graciously stands, 
Extending the world her welcoming hand. 
With dawn of the century hers is the fame 
New lustre to add to Jefferson's name; 
For on lovelier region the sun never shines 
Than Louisiana, from palms to her pines. 

Fair city, oh, long may she sit as a queen 
Enthroned on her mounds, complacent, serene! 
And close by her side may Justice e'er stand 
And hold equal scales, poised true in her hand. 
As swift-footed years speed onward apace, 
May time only lend new charms to her grace; 
To ways that are vain may she ne'er be beguiled, 
"Imperial Missouri's" imperial child. 



TRUSTING. 

"pvO not repine tho' now apart we rove, 

And many weary days have passed away; 
Still we may dream the old sweet dreams of love. 

Assured that we shall meet again — some day. 
Other hearts than ours have ached in silent pain, 

And longed for one sweet, tender word of love — 
But hearts true as ours shall never wait in vain. 

And peace shall nestle in them like a do've. 

Be true, my love, 
Be true I pray, 
Tho' dark the night, 'twill roll away; 
Much joy for us is still in store 
And we '11 be happy as of yore. 

24 



Trusting. 

Earth does not grieve wlien summer roses fall, 

And with their dying breath perfume the air; 
Nor does she weep when winter's snowy pall 

Rests coldly where the flowers bloomed so fair. 
Nor does she doubt — for Nature's law is true — 

She looks beyond the darkness and the gloom, 
"When June-time's balmy air, the sunshine, and the dew 

Will give her back the roses in their bloom. 

Be true, my love. 
Be true I pray, 
Tho' dark the night, 'twill roll away; 
Much joy for us is still in store 
And we '11 be happy as of yore. 

Love, do not grieve: our hopes, like roses fell — 

Too rudely touched by envy's chilling hlast — 
Only be true and all will yet be well; 

The future will seem brighter for the past. 
Do not despair, but hope and trust and wait, 

And to each precious promise still be true: 
Tho' severed now, I give my hand to Fate, 

I know that she will lead me back to you. 

Be true, my love. 
Be true I pray, 
Tho' dark the night, 'twill roll away; 
Much joy for us is still in store 
And we '11 be happy as of yore. 



25 



YOU AND L 



"^irB stand apart while Time moves on 

And weaves the moments into years; 
We sigh for joys that now are gone, 

But who will heed our pain or tears? 
With stern, set face and heavy heart 

You wander, as the days go by; 
And find no peace in life's great mart, 

But who 's at fault, say, you or I? 



II. 

I watch you drifting from my side 

And fain would call you back again; 
But love is hushed by haughty pride. 

And hearts ache on in silent pain. 
Two souls are haunted day and night 

By mem'ries fond that will not die; 
One tender word could make all bright; 

But who will speak it, you or I? 



III. 

A few brief times our hands have met 

Across the way that grows so wide; 
But both were dumb, or else we yet 

Might well have tarried side by side. 
I seek for solace in my art. 

And you in traffic; still we sigh — 
For neither feeds a starving heart; 

And who's to blame? Both, you and 

26 



LINES 

(In memory of Erna Rice.) 

A SUNNY-HAIRED cherub, with love-tender eyes, 
One of the sweetest in God's Paradise, 
From roseate regions was bidden to go 
And tarry a season with mortals below. 

A beautiful mansion was hallowed and blest, 
With hope of receiving this heavenly guest— 
A feather of LoVe wafted down to the earth 
Through Nature's transcendent miracle— birth. 

A tiny girl baby— 'twas in such a guise 
The cherub celestial came down from the sliies; 
And with her came winging the thrill and the glow- 
That touch of the Infinite all mothers may know. 

Oh, Woman mysterious, with sacred heart shrines, 
With holy high altars where Love's taper shines, 
What glory supernal transfigures thy life 
When sweet name of Mother is added to Wife! 

All blithely her childhood fast flitted away. 
Still binding more closely hearts to her each day; 
But as she was nearing the mystical shore 
Of young womanhood, about to pass o'er, 

Her soul caught the music of heavenly chimes. 
The Cherubim wooing her back to their climes; 
A spirit voice whispered: "Come home, gentle one, 
Thy earth- work is finished, thy mission is done!" 

O mother, cease mourning thine idol of clay, 
'Mid tears and heart-aching laid, broken, away; 
For henceforth and ever, with love-tender eyes, 
She waits for thy coming in God's Paradise! 

27 



TWENTY BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 

(To Governor and Mrs. Lon V. Stephens, in honor of the twentieth anni- 
versary of their wedding-day, celebrated at the Executive Mansion, Jeffer- 
son City, Mo.) 

/^H, can it be that twenty years 

^-^ Have flitted by so fleetly; 

Nor scarce have left a trace of tears, 

They 've lilted on so sweetly? 
How gracious Father Time has proved, 

To touch your lives so lightly; 
To let you love and be beloved 

So loyally, so knightly! 



How well you both recall the days 

You roamed the green fields over; 
When in the flower-spangled ways 

You met a light-winged rover, 
A saucy god with bended bow, 

'Twas Love, your own hearts told you; 
His silken net was hidden low 

All ready to enfold you. 



You knew not by what witching arts 

The unseen barb came winging — 
You only knew it pierced two hearts 

And set two souls a-singing. 
A tender, voiceless, wordless song, 

Beyond all speech or telling — 
A rhapsody which all life long 

Its mission is fulfilling. 

28 



Twenty Beautiful Years. 

Entranced, Love listened to that laj'' 

And ceased to be a rover; 
He lost his airy wings one day, 

Amongst the purple clover. 



Dear heart! those sunny, blissful days. 

How far they seem behind you! 
Yet Love, a v/illing captive, stays. 

And chains love-woven bind you. 
And thus you journey on your way, 

Like trusting friends together; 
Your path illumined bj^ Love's ray, 

'Tls always sunny weather. 



Oh, may the same fair god divine 

Still weave his sweet spell o'er you; 
E'en when the sun of Life's decline 

Shall cast long shades before you. 
Oh, may he keep the flame aglow, 

The sacred flame God-given, 
Until at last you both shall know 

That perfect love is Heaven! 



29 



SHADOW AND SUNSHINE. 

'T* HE mazy paths of Life I tread 
-*■ Are thickly strewn with thorns and flowers; 
But roughest ways have often led 

My weary feet to blooming bowers. 
I look far down the Vanished years 

That T have counted, and 'tis true 
That smiles have chased away my tears, 

As sunshine drinks the drops of dew. 



Altho' my heart is sometimes torn 

With wounds which long refuse to heal; 
I know that with each trial borne 

I stronger grow, for woe or weal. 
I do not faint tho' friends I love 

Prove faithless when I need them most, 
For others come, and often prove 

More worthy than the ones I lost. 



No longer do I rail at Fate, 

Nor shrink abashed at Sorrow's touch; 
I know the years will compensate. 

Nor let me suffer overmuch. 
And when the final tale is told — 

Whether in Life's noon or even — 
I '11 count my ills as purest gold 

If, through them, I may enter Heaven. 



30 



BOATING SONG. 

SAIL away, sail away, 
"Tis a bonny summer day; 
At anchor lies our boat all a-quiver— 
Impatient now to fly, 
'Neath the mellow evening sky. 
O'er the dimpling, dancing Mississippi River. 

Ah! we go, now we go, 

And the red sun bending low, 

A sheen of gold and crimson hue is weaving; 
It bids us each good-night 
As it drops down out of sight. 

Behind the good Mound City we are leaving. 

Lightly dip, brightly dip, 

Like a snowy swan we slip 
O'er rippling waves with radiant tints a-glowing; 

Of all life this is best. 

Just to idly drift and rest. 
And listen to the river's peaceful flowing. 

Is it well to break the spell? 

But a waiter comes to tell 
That supper in the cabin now is ser'ving; 

Of appetites we find 

iNot one was left behind, 
And allegiance to the steward shows no swerving. 

Linen white, silver bright, 

Rows of waiters black as night, 
The bounty of the rare cuisine is showing; 

While conversation bright. 

And laughter rippling light. 
Keeps the spirit of good-cheer ever flowing. 

31 



Boating Song 



World of June, world atune, 

Now the silver swinging moon, 
From out the fragrant East is softly glancing; 

We feel her mystic spell, 

But the sweet seductive swell 
Of music lures us in to join the dancing. 

Care away, light and gay. 

Pleasure holds its wonted sway; 
Too swiftly comes the moment for reposing; 

But berths of spotless white 

Our weary heads invite, 
Soon sleep with poppy-wand all eyes is closing. 

Sail away, night and day. 

To St. Paul we wend our way; 
We leave behind each petty care and sorrow — 

No tiny cloud shall lay 

On our buoyant hearts to-day. 
Nor cast its shadows o'er the coming morrow. 

Oh, the green, misty sheen. 

That along the shores is seen! 
Oh, whispering winds that tell us with perfuming, 

That through the sunny hours 

They have coquetted in the bowers. 
With blossoms sweet and dainty ^er blooming! 

Stars of night, twinkling bright, 

Drop their trembling bars of light. 
Like jewels in the dusky water gleaming; 

Till on we seem to float 

In a mystic, phantom boat. 
Between two heavens radiantly a-beaming. 



32 



Boating Song. 



Lightly sing, blithely sing, 

While the spray we backward fling, 

And iNature spreads her pictures out before us; 
Oh, peaceful towns that lie, 
Nestled on the bluffs so high! 

Oh, azure skies that bend their arches o'er us! 

Sailing slow, soft and low, 
Through the locks we lightly go, 

Tho' rapids toss and tumble e'er so madly; 
For on we softly float 
In our stanch and snowy boat, 

Along the smooth canal lightly, gladly. 

Flee the dark, sing the lark. 

Now the Nation's splendid park 
For miles along the sunny shore is stretching; 

A panorama fair, 

Of scenes bewitching, rare. 
Where Art and Nature join in wondrous sketching. 

Gliding keel, smoothly steal, 

Trusty pilot at the wheel, 
The upper rapids we are slowly threading; 

And leaping, bounding fast. 

The crested waves flow past. 
While mid-day sun its golden light is shedding. 

Sail away, sail away; 

I 'air Lake Pepin in our way, 
Spreads out in dimpled beauty most entrancing; 

Around it legends dwell. 

And we feel their weird spell, 
As on its pulsing bosom we are dancing. 

33 



Boating Song. 



Azure tints, opal glints, 

Oh, the wondrous color hints! 

Each lofty shofe more picturesque is growing; 
The far-famed Hudson wide 
In its haughty, lordly pride, 

Has nothing nobler, grander in its showing. 

Sparkle bright, dew of night, 

In the early morning light, 
Our pleasant upward journey now is ending; 

Our gallant boat at rest 

On the rivers peaceful breast, 
All eagerly ashore our ways are wending. 

Oh, away, sunny day! 

Every moment that we stay. 
We revel in a land of song and story; 

We wander first of all 

To Fort Snelling's crumbling wall, 
And gaze upon the ruin gray and hoary. 

Then away, glad and gay — 

See the "LaugHing Water" play, 
We listen to its strangely weird singing; 

Oh, airy, fairy falls, 

"Minnehaha" e'er it calls, 
And memories of an idyl sweet is bringing. 

Blooming flowers, shady bowers, 
Oh, the sunny-footed hours! 

On dizzy heights of bridges we are standing; 
We see the winding stream 
Like a silver ribbon gleam, 

A charming view of hill and vale commanding. 

34 



Boating Song. 



Cities fair, cities rare, 

Busy, bustling everywhere; 
No prouder twins could grace a noble river, 

As side by side they stand, 

While Electra's golden band 
Doth bind them close in union ne'er to sever. 

Days that fly swiftly by. 

While we ever bravely try 
To view each nook and corner worth discerning, 

But now a warning note 

From our steamer's husky throat 
Reminds each truant of the home returning. 

Swinging slow, dropping low, 
Down the river's dreamy flow, 

Upon the airy decks we now are singing; 
For no blither song is found 
Than the merry "Homeward Bound," 

As gaily o'er the waters we are winging. 

Sailing fast, home at last, 

With our happy outing past: 
Too busy now for dreaming or regretting; 

But blessed days of rest 

Put new courage in each breast, 
That ne'er will find oblivion or forgetting. 



35 



THE PASSION FLOWER. 

(Emblematic flower of the Arkansas Club Women.) 
HTHIS tender and beautiful legend 
^ Enshrines you, dear passion flower; 
'Tis said that you burst into being 

In a tragical, desolate hour. 
When the face of all nature was darkened, 

You lifted your crown from the sod 

Where slowly the life-drops had trickled 

A-down from the heart of our Lord! 

From Calvary's Mount to the Ozarks 

How found you the perilous way? 
Did you drift on the star-lit night breeze 

Or sun-kissed wings of the day? 
Were you there when the gallant De Soto, 

Inspired by hope in a truth, 
Found deep in the wilds of Arkansas 

The mythical Fountain of Youth? 

Did the Princess Ulelah entwine you 

In the ebony strands of her hair? 
Did you lend to her tawny-hued beauty 

Enchantment of maidens more fair? 
Did you bloom just as purple and sweetly 

For the twittering birds in the trees? 
And pour out your fragrance as freely 

To the pilfering kiss of the breeze? 

No doufbt you murmured "Devotion" 

As fervently then as to-day. 
To the wooing heart of the South-wind 

And the moonbeam's silvery ray. 
What flower more fit for an emblem? 

Springing up at the Fountain of TrutB, 
And blooming in unfading beauty, 

For aye, at the Fountain of Youth! 

36 



HOME-COMING OF ADMIRAL DEWEY. 

OH, quicken thy speed, good Olympia, 
Sail swiftly the green billows o'er; 
Columbia is waiting to welcome 
A hero safe back to her shore. 
A hero resplendent with glory 

Won nobly that morning in May, 
When Spain's fleet sank at Manila, 
And "Old Glory" rose over the Bay. 

The news of that victory splendid 

Like lightning encircled the earth; 
And thrilled every heart patriotic 

With pride in the land of his birth. 
And eyes that were heavy with weeping, 

And hearts that were bleeding with pain, 
Read plainly the tragical answer 

To prayer: "Remember the Mai%e." 

And now on the gallant Oli/mpia, 

Her banners afloat in the breeze, 
Comes Dewey, the conquering hero, 

Admiral of all the high seas. 
His country has crowned him with honor. 

The world has given him fame. 
To regions far-off and remotest, 

Like magic has flitted his name. 

'Mid music and boom of artiVry — 

A homage delightful to pay— 
The hero of hapless Manila 

Traverses a glory-strewn way. 
But dearer than all the ovations 

A worshiping world can bestow; 
Aye, dearer than banner of azure 

Bejeweled with twin stars of snow, 

37 



Horn e-C oming of Admiral Dewey. 

Is knowledge, so sweet to brave Dewey, 

Of duty e'er faithfully done; 
Ere fortune of war made him famous 

And crowned him with victory won. 
The knowledge that hid in his bosom, 

Where only his own soul may scan^ 
Beneath the insignia of Admiral, 

There throhs the true heart of a man! 

Then quicken thy speed, good Olympian 
Dip lightly the emerald seas o'er; 

Columbia is longing to welcome 
A hero safe back to her shore. 



CHANGED. 
I. 

npHERE was a time when every word 
-'■ Of yours my being thrilled and stirred-, 
When o'er Life's hidden paths untried 
I would haVe journeyed by your side, 
Willingly — I loved you so. 

II. 

You did not know; we parted thus; 
In ways diverse Fate guided us; 
Now, after years, we meet to-day. 
But all in vain, dear friend, you say 
Pleadingly, "I love you so." 

38 



Changed, 
III. 

Which t)ne has changed most, you or I, 
As Time, light-winged, has flitted by? 
Hath miracle been wrought in each, 
Or prize we least that in our reach? 
Verily, Love's way is strange! 

IV. 

I do not know; I only see 
The distance vast 'twixt you and me; 
Your pathway winds through valleys bright, 
Mine climbs the toilsome mountain height; 
Ceaselessly, I struggle on. 



V. 

And yet, I own, it would be blest, 
If I might stay with you and rest; 
Might still Ambition's voice for aye, 
If only with you I could say 
Truthfully, "I love you so." 



39 



ODE TO MINNEHAHA FALLS, 

\ 1 7 HEN first I saw thee, Laughing Water, 
^^ The balmy breath of joyous Spring 
Had kissed away each icy fetter 

And Lid thee lightly dance and sing. 
When from the Southland birds came winging 

Back their way with instinct true, 
While elfin hands had set a-ringing 

The twinkling blue-bell chimes anew. 



I heard thee sing, I saw thee dancing — 

The sun which peeped with love-warm ray 
Betrayed the ardor of his glancing 

In rainbow blushes on thy spray. 
I stood like one bewitched, enchanted, 

O Minnehaha, by thy spell; 
The very vale to me was haunted 

By legends weird that 'round thee dwelL 



I fancied, as I looked and listened. 

An Indian maiden's voice I heard; 
And dusky eyes, that beamed and glistened. 

Through the misty vapors peered. 
And from the leaping, laughing water 

A fawn-like figure came to view 
A thing of life — Dacotah's daughter. 

Whom Hiawatha came to woo. 

^.0 



Ode to Minnehaha Falls. 

I started! and from dreams returning, 

I glanced adown the wild ravine; 
No curling smoke from camp-fires burning, 

Nor painted wigwams could be seen; 
But uninvaded, unmolested, 

Primeval Nature holds her sway — 
Progression's onward march arrested — 

Preserved by law, intact, for aye. 

I turned away and half regretful 

Climbed up the rustic stairway high; 
But of thy charm was not forgetful, 

Tho' scenes of beauty met mine eye. 
A lovely park, thine own name glowing, 

Spelled out in blooming flowers rare, 
A landscape picture plainly showing 

Art triumphant everywhere. 

I wandered on 'neath boughs low-bending, 

By sheltered nooks to lovers dear; 
But still thy mystic song unending 

Lingered ever in my ear. 
A voice seductive and entrancing — 

A spirit — haunts thee, airy fails; 
And 'raid thy leaping, laughing, dancing, 

"Minnehaha" e'er it calls. 

FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY, 

IT AIL, Heavenly Graces! How gladly we greet 

A trio so lovely, angelic, and sweet! 
As fair as the clime that gave them their birth 
And sent them to dwell with mortals on earth. 
Oh, who can behold them, these mystical three, 
And say which the fairest or greatest shall be? 

41 



Faith, Hope, and Charity. 

"Faith, meek-eyed, so gentle, so sweet, 

Saj's, "Trast me," and guides our wandering feet; 

We journey along when the way is quite clear, 

And sometimes forget she even is near; 

When trials assail, and the heart sinks with fear, 

She still holds our hand and speaks words of cheer 

Hope, golden-haired, like a sunbeam bright. 
Shines into darkness and scatters the night; 
She bids us lay down each sorrow and strife 
And gives us a glimpse of ideal life. 
Her smile, tho' delusive, is winsome and sweet, 
And gladdens the heart e'en though it may cheat. 

She soothes eveiT care with her magical touch, 
And tells us the future may surely hold much 
To brighten our lives — so truly it seems, 
We weave a bright web of roseate dreams. 
No time, nor change, nor future shall mar 
The radiance that falls undimmed from her star. 

Charity — Love — Oli, how can we trace 
The marvelous beauty adorning this Grace? 
Humble and meek, she endureth all things; 
She enVies no one: to the weary she brings 
The blessing of rest; suffers long and is kind; 
Thinks evil of none; to weak faults is blind. 

She vaunts not herself; neither is she vain; 
She fails not in sorrow, but shares every pain; 
Tho' wise tongues shall cease and knowledge decay, 
Love shines brightly on unto perfect day. 
Tho' many rare charms abide in the Three, 
We find every one, sweet Charity, in thee. 

42 



Faith, Hope, and Charity. 

Tho' zeal may inspire our hearts to great deeds — 
To giVe all our goods unto Poverty's needs; 
Our voices may ring with harmony sweet 
As angels e'er made in chorus complete; 
And prophecy's gift may show us all things 
Deep-hidden beneath dark mystery's wings; 
How vain are all these! How vain, too, are we; 
How vain Faith and Hope without Charity! 



THE BARD OF BABYLAND. 

(In memory of Eugene Field.) 

r\ SILENT Bard of Babyland, 

Too soon, alas! the wondrous lute 
Which voiced thy tuneful lullabies, 
Lies all unstrung, unswept and mute. 

That lute within whose magic strings 
Lay hid the key to children's love; 

Which gave the passport to wee hearts — 
That realm akin to one above. 

O Bard beloved of Babyland, 

Thy name and fame both rest secure, 
Love-graven deep in tender hearts, 

A monument that will endure. 

Tho' Time may give to Babyland 
Another singer passing sweet, 

The laurel woven by wee hands 
To-day is resting at thy feet. 

43 



LONG AGO, 

'T^HERE 'S a mystical Isle up the river of Time, 
■'■ Half-hidden within a cloud-mist of years; 
'Tis far up the river, that wonderful clime, 

We turn to it often with longing and tears. 
In fancy we tread again the fair strand, 

And see our gay life-boat moored close to its side; 
All ready to bear us away from the land, 

With hearts beating light as the pulse of the tide. 

How blithely we sailed from that beautiful realm. 

The waves of the river danced bright in the sun; 
The boat gliding smoothly with Youth at the helm, 

And Life's fitful Voyage was fairly begun. 
How buoyant our spirits! Time seemed, oh, so long! 

To reach the broad ocean how eager were we; 
We cared not to list to the river's low song, 

But longed for the noise and roar of the sea. 

Oh, beautiful Island, thy margin was bright 

With flowers that mirrored their face in tlie stream; 
The birds gaily caroled their love with delight, 

And sunny-winged hours flitted by like a dream. 
Oh, how could we know ere we sailed from thy side, 

The ocean is full of barges gone flown? 
Oh, how could we know that its bosom so wide 

Holds caverns where ruin and shipwreck are strown? 



How far we have drifted — how long, too, it seems! 

Our souls have grown sick of the moan of the sea; 
We sigh for our youth, with its innocent dreams, 

Oh, Isle of enchantment, we sigh, too, for thee, 

44 



R 



AN EASTER CAROL, 



<<nr'HE Lord is risen." Oh, message sweet! 

•*• It rings triumphant down the years; 
As when proclaimed by angel lips. 

It dried the weeping Mary's tears. 
"The Lord is risen." O earth, rejoice! 

Your sweetest anthem gladly sing; 
The monster, Death, is vanquished quite, 

And Christ forevermore is king! 

XL 

O passion-flower beneath the cross, 

Lii't up your purple, bleeding head! 
O fragrant lilies, spotless white. 

Your sweetest breath cf peiCume shed! 
O human souls, encircle earth 

With one triumphant, iiuppy voice; 
For immortality is yours, 

"The Lord is risen" — rejoice! rejoice! 



THE NEW YEAR. 

ING the hells merrily, ring the bells cheerily — 

Chime them out gaily athwart the midnight air; 
Time, in his restless flight, brings to us a guest to-night- 
Open the door for the child strange and fair. 



Ring the bells merrily, ring the bells cheerily — 

Chime them out gaily across the midnight cold; 
Sigh not wearily, pine not drearily, 

Welcome the New Year— regret not the old. 

45 



ONLY. 

/■^ NLY a little casket 

^^ With linings of dainty blue; 

Only the flash of a diamond 

Prismatic in its hue. 
Only a snap of the claspings, 

Only the splash of a tear, 
Only a sigh, a still heart-cry, 

For broken dreams so dear. 

Only a lover's quarrel 

With all the bitter pain; 
Only a broken engagement 

Rending two lives in twain; 
Only a sad remembrance 

Of cruel words that sting, 
Only the woe fond hearts oft know, 

For Love is a tyrant king. 

Only a heart grown humble 

A spirit proud, grown meek; 
Only an intense longing 

For pardon — men, too, are weak. 
Only a soft "Forgive me," 

Falls sweet on listening ears, 
A tender thrill — a sweet 'I will" — 

And eyes grow dim with tears. 

Only a glad renewing 

Of plighted vows again; 
Only two hearts o'erflowing 

With joy akin to pain. 
Only the flash of a diamond 

On dimpled hand so white, 
And not a sigh — nor faint heart-cry- 

Love reigns supreme to-night! 

46 



I 



MISSOURI, OLD MISSOURI. 

(To Hon. Champ Clark.) 
I. 

F I might choose from every bird, 
Whose pinions fan the ether blue, 
Their fairest auill to form one word 

So dear to me, so dear to you, 
I 'd pluck from eagle's dauntless winga 

The proudest feather of his glory, 
Then dip it in empyreal springs 
And write: 
Missouri, old Missouri. 

II. 

If I might choose from richest mine. 

Where sleep the treasures of the earth, 
The purest gold from which to twine 

A coronet of sterling worth — 
I 'd gather each translucent gem 

From out the sea, from mountain hoary, 
And weave a precious diadem 

And crown 

Missouri, old Missouri/ 

III. 

If I might choose, just one, from all 

Columbia's daughters passing fair- 
Stupendous task which might appall 

The heart of any who should dare — 
Might I the golden apple hold. 

Like Paris in the olden story. 
Inscribed, "The Fairest," I 'd be bold 

And choose 
Missouri, old Missouri. 

47 



s* 



LEGENDS OF THE HOT SPRINGS OF 
ARKANSAS. 

THE FOUNTAIN 
OF iOUTH. 

ZOON after Columbus discovered 

The Indies, the land of his dream — 
There came from the shores of the New World 

Reports of a fabulous stream 
Whose magical waters could banish 

All traces of time and of pain 
And restore to the cheeks of the aged 

The bloom of lost roses again. 



Far back from the earliest ages 

The wisest have sought hidden truth; 
Nor is it a matter of wonder 

Men sought for the Fountain of Youth. 
But where? Had some light-winged Pegasus 

Burst the earth with the print of his hoof? 
Or was it a fabric of romance, 

Tradition or legend or truth? 



From his isle in the blue Southern ocean 

Ponce de Leon sailed forth with his fleet, 
To search for the mythical fountain 

Whose waters would make life complete. 
He drifted on sunny-winged billows, 

But ere he had ended his quest. 
The poisoned barb of a savage 

Was fatally sunk in his breast. 

48 



Legends of the Hot Springs of Arkansas, 

And more than a score of years later, 

De Soto sailed over the main 
To Florida's coast — with his soldiers — 

And planted the colors of Spain. 
He, too, had heard of the fountain 

De Leon had looked for in vain. 
And now, in the strength of his manhood, 

The project was commenced again. 

Equipped with horses and soldiers, 

The journey was proudly begun; 
He crossed the Father of Waters 

And followed the course of the sun. 
On, on to the westward he wandered, 

Through dangers by night and by day; 
And naught but the bones of his comrades 

Has marked out his perilous way. 

Still, thoughts of the magical fountain 

Like a will-o'-wisp lured him on 
And gave to his spirit the courage 

The arduous toil to o'ercome. 
The Indians, divining his purpose, 

More savage and treacherous grew; 
Till into a furious battle 

The gallant Castllians they drew. 

Discouraged, overwhelmed, and defeated, 

De Soto succumbed to disease; 
With no couch but the llower-strewn grasses, 

No home but the wide-spreading trees. 
But not far away was the wigwam 

Of a friendly Indian chief, 
And under its primitive shelter 

The sufferer found care and relief. 

49 



Legends of the Hot Springs of Arkansas, 

De SOTO AND THE 
PKINCESS ULELAH. 

The daughter — the Princess Ulelah — 

Was graceful and lithe as a fawn; 
Her touch to the sick man's forehead 

Was soft as the down of a swan. 
She brought to him clear, sparkling water 

From the depths of a silvery spring, 
And to cool his fever-burned body 

The fragrant rushes did swing. 

The innocent heart of the maiden 

Was touched as she looked in the face 
Of the pale, emaciated Spaniard, 

And no symptoms of healing could trace. 
She pleaded for days with her father 

Ere the boon was granted she sought; 
At last, through her pleading, De Soto 

To the "Breath of Healing" was brought. 



HOW THE WATERS 
BECAME HOT. 

Long ago the mighty Kanawagas 

Were warriors, stalwart and grand; 
And, by their superior prowess. 

Had gained vast regions of land; 
A tribe which the Great Spirit favored, 

And made their possessions increase; 
He gave them the victory in battles. 

Contentment and plenty in peace. 

In summer the valleys v/ere covered 
With wild-flowers fragrant and sweet; 

In winter the mountains afforded 
Their wigwams a sheltered retreat. 



Legends of the Hot Springs of Arkansas. 

Each time when a silvery crescent 

Was hung, lil^e a l30w, in the sky, 
'Twas counted a "moon" — and recorded 

The indolent months going by. 

Alas for the frailty of mortals, 

E'en mortals as simple as these! 
A fateful day overtook them, 

And smote them with dreadful disease. 
Strong men were stricken and helpless; 

The hunters forsook the wild chase; 
The war-path, too, was deserted, 

And despair was stamped on each face. 

They gathered their tribes all together, 

And went to a green valley wide; 
Where volumes of cold, sparkling water 

Gushed out from the tall mountain side. 
The wise men believed the Great Spirit 

Was angry, and quickly began 
Afflicting themselves with great torture, 

To gain his good pleasure again. 

One bright day, when well-nigh exhausted 

From weakness that suffering brings. 
Thin tongues of airiest vapor 

Were seen to rise from the springs. 
The Great Spirit, grieved at their sorrow, 

And touched by their sickness and pain. 
Breathed fiery balm on the waters, 

And smiled on His people again. 

From henceforth this valley was sacred. 

All warfare forever was still; 
The nations met here unmolested. 

In friendship, in peace, and good-will. 



51 



Legends of the Hot Springs of Arkansas, 

The Fountain of Youtli of the Spaniards, 

The Indians' No-Wa-Say-Non, 
The famous Hot Springs of Ar-kan-sas, 

Are a marvelous triune in one! 
Who knows but the same Happy Hollow, 

So dear to all lovers to-day, 
Is the very same spot where De Soto 

With the Princess Ulelah did stray? 

But Progress, alert and remorseless, 

Has printed her resolute heel 
Over all, and banded the mountains 

With glistening ribbons of steel. 
No longer do Indian camp-fires 

Illumine the Valley and hill, 
But their simple and beautiful legends 

Encircle the Hot Springs still. 



SNOWBIRDS. 

■\ IT HERE do you come from, dear little birds, 
^^ Chirping so gay as you hop to and fro? 
Do you bring us snow — or does snow brmg us you? 
You both come together — you and the snow. 



52 



A NOTABLE WOMAN, 

(To Mrs. Annie L. Y. OrfE.) 

n^HAT mystic power called Destiny 
•^ May not exist: and yet dear friend, 

In your own life methinks I see 
Its forceful, fateful trend. 

A child, light-hearted, merry, gay- 
Then girlhood's rosy visions came 

With tender dreams; still, in that day 
You had no thought or wish for tame. 

But on through uneventful years 

Stern Fate was weaving fast her strands, 
As ever on, through hopes and fears, 

Tho' unperceived, she held your hands. 
And when the moment came, at last, 

Revealed your strength of soul and heart, 
And turned you from an aimless past 

To play in life's great schemes a part. 

Of your success, your enterprise, 

I need not speak, for these are known — 
How from a book of tiny size 

Evolved your pride. The Chaperone, 
Whose helpful pages oft have cheered 

The hearts of women our country o'er — 
Nor of honors great, conferred. 

That sent your name from shore to shore. 

53 



A Notable Woman. 

'Tis not of triumphs you have won, 

But of your womanhood I sing; 
Your power to treasure kindness done, 

Aijc to forget each petty sting. 
For Charity, that sweetest grace, 

Abideth in your heart alway; 
She writes her presence on your face, 

And in your deeds of every day. 

The world admires, and so do I, 
The energy, foresight, and skill. 

Ambition, too, that dared to try 
And capture fortune by stern will. 

Success is yours— reward of toil- 
But still your heart has room for friend 

And home and love; for naught can spoil 
A soul where all sweet graces blend. 

DON^T SURRENDER. 
■pEAR not, tho' all the world may stand 

Against thee in misfortune's day; 
Tho' Faith from thine withdraw her hand. 

And Hope can see no cheering ray. 
Tho' Sorrow's weight may cast thee down, 

And friends that once were tender 
May turn on thee their coldest frown- 
Stand firm and don't surrender. 

The' darkest night, however long, 

Will always have an ending; 
In melody of sweetest song 

The minor notes are blending. 
True hearts will rally to thy side 

And prove thy strong defender; 
So bravely stand, whate'er betide — 

Fight on and don't surrender. 

54 



A 



ELFIN DALE. 

(To Mrs. Alice O'Day.) 
I. 

BEAUTIFUL spot where the azure-lit skies 



Brood lovingly oVer a sweet paradise; 

Where woodland and orchard and garden and lake 

The keenest emotions of beauty awake. 
Where odorous blossoms, in riotous bloom, 
Toss out from their chalices musky perfume; 

Where amorous zephyrs coquet all the day, 

Then fiit with their tell-tale fragrance away. 

11. 

A silvery lake where the willow boughs dip. 

And swans o'er its bosom so gracefully slip; 

Where classic Narcissus, with great eyes of snow, 
Enraptured looks down on his image below. 

Where Night, with her witchery, hangs out her moon, 

And shimmering pigeons in tenderness croon; 

Where deep in the woodland, through all the night long, 
The nightingale pours out his passionate song. 

I 

III. 

A beautiful woman, with azure-lit eyes. 
Broods lovingly over this sweet paradise; 

This garden of Eden, this fair elfin-land — 

Arose at the magical touch of her hand, 
The picture idyllic, portrayed with such art, 
Expresses ideals a-dream in her heart; 

Her soul, beauty-loving, infuses the place 

And gives it the charm of infinite grace. 

55 



AT THE ALTAR. 

' TV/f ID beautiful bowers of fragrance and bloom, 
"'■''■■ Enthralling the senses with subtle perfume; 
With tenderest music seductive and sweet, 
Throbbing and pulsing with every heart-beat; 
Ah! surely some elfin with magical wand 
Has come from the realm of bright fairyland 
With mystical art, and transformed the scene 
Into a court for his own fairy queen. 

Oh, no; 'tis an altar most fitting, I trow, 
For the radiant maiden who whispers her vow 
To lordly young lover who stands by her side, 
Chivalric, and honored to claim her his bride. 
No happier souls, the world over, than they. 
For fetters, love-woven, unite them for aye; 
Oh, love-doubting world, take courage anew, 
There still is a mission for Cupid to do! 

King LoVe is a rover — he floats on the breeze 
And airily sails o'er the blue summer seas; 
Earth's mightiest monarchs before him bend low. 
No scepter can rival his arrow and bow. 
The fairest and bravest he marks for his own, 
Then slyly around them his meshes are thrown, 
Till captives, most willing, they yield to his snare, 
Tho' it only be woven of strands of bright hair. 

And Love, tho' so royal, is a democrat, too — 
He cares not for blood patrician and blue; 
Nor ever was knov^'n to proffer his aid 
Where matches for money and titles are made. 
His mission on earth is true hearts to thrill. 
Not empty, depleted coffers to fill; 
And throughout the world no flower is too fair 
To bloom to its sweetest beneath his fond care. 

56 



THE SUNFLOWER. 

(The emblematic flower of Kansas.) 
'T^RUE child of the prairie, with pennants of gold, 
-■- Ycur face to the sun you loyally hold : 
As true to the magnet ol Nature as when 
The good State of Kansas seemed a desert to men. 

Your banners of gold to the breezes you flung 
Long ere the "Westward, ho!" watchword had rung; 
Long ere the slow-moving caravan trains 
Their sinuous trails had etched o'er the plains. 

When dusky-eyed daughters of warriors bold 
Entwined in their tresses your petals of gold— 
In freedom, untrammeled, you blossomed your best 
Ere Empire's star rose bright in the West. 

The fleet-footed years have flitted away — 
The grand commonwealth is Kansas to-day; 
Progression, steel-shod, has captured the plain, 
Transmuting your gold to gold of the grain. 

And Industry's magic is seen everywhere. 
Transforming the prairies to gardens most rare; 
While hidden beneath the depth of the soil 
Are mountains of zinc and rivers of oil. 

But you, sturdy child, to the sun have been true. 
E'en so v/ill good Kansans be faithful to you; 
Tho' you pass from the prairies, should that be your fate. 
You live in the Arms of the "Sunflower State." 

57 



THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE. 

t(J 'VE signed away an empire," brusquely said 
Napolfon, tossing by his pen, ink-wet; 
Reluctantly, and with perchance regret, 

He gazed upon his signature and read 

Between the lines of pomp and glory fled 

With that State document. The terms were met: 
The treaty closed, and seal of France was set — 

A crown transferred to fair Columbia's head. 

Louisiana thus became our own; 

And so fulfills Napoleon's prophecy 
An empire truly she has proved to be. 

And gives new grace to name of Jefferson. 

From sun-kissed tropic Gulf to Northern snows, 
This Eden-garden blossoms as a rose. 



THE MAMMOTH CAVE OF KENTUCKY. 

/^ MATCHLESS Cavern, Nature's masterpiece 

^-^ Of subterranean mystery; I 

A-tremble leave the sunshine, azure sky, 

And trust myself to thee. All earth-sounds cease. 

While darkness, which the flick'ring lamps increase. 
Supremely reigns. Soon foolish fears pass by, 
As wonders great with other wonders Vie, 

There comes a sense of safety and of peace. 

And as I creep through narrow, sinuous ways. 
Or stand beneath great awe-inspiring domes. 
And people them with demons, elves, and gnomes, 

Or sail a stream ne'er kissed by sunlit rays — 
How long, arch alchemist, how long, I ask, 
The time to plan and execute thy task? 

58 



AN IDEAL WOMAN. 

(To Miss Helen Gould.) 

'y*HOU favored child of Fortune, calm, serene, 
-"■ So fraught with sterling worth, so true, so good, 

Thine is, indeed, the type of womanhood 
All love to honor when or where 'tis seen. 
Not all thy gold, with its bewitching sheen, 

Can shut thy gentle heart against the flood 

Of human woe; nor hast thou e'er withstood 
Thine ov/n soul's plea when chance for good was seen. 
Far-sighted, womanly, with power to grasp 

The m.any-sided problems taxing thee; 
Self-poised, with heart and intellect a-clasp. 

Thy countrywomen's model well may be. 
A Nation's love thy gracious deeds inspire. 
Thou worthy daughter of a worthy sire! 



SWEET SINGER OF THE SOUTHLAND, 

(To Madison Cawein.) 

SINGER of the Southland, passing sweet, 



O 



Your songs are fraught with all the subtle spell 
Of that fair clime wherein you love to dwell 

And weave your witching lays. Such visions greet 

My beauty-loving soul, that fancy fleet 
Flies forth to revel free in leafy dell. 
Where eglantine doth blend its spicy smell 

With jessamine in wantonness complete. 

Where golden moonlight, drifting through the trees, 
Is flooded with delicious, melting notes — 
Love-tunes from mocking-birds' enchanted throats — 

And passion pulses in the rhythmic breeze. 
Fair dreams of beauty, color, loA'^e — yet why 
That undertone, that cadence of a sigh? 

59 



JUNE ROSES, 
I. 

T SIT with my hands full of roses, 
And fondle their velvety leaves; 
I drink in their beauty and fragrance, 

While mem'ry a tender spell weaves; 
I float on their odor so subtle. 

To a June- time hid in the past; 
And live o'er again, in my seeming, 

A dream too enchanting to last. 

II. 

There rises from out the soft petals 

A face that is dainty and fair; 
And sweet as the heart of the roses 

That bloom in the summer-aide air; 
While eyes, like purple-blue pansies. 

Look straight into depths of my own, 
Recalling a dead, sweet summer, 

The dearest to me ever known. 



III. 

June, with your garlands of roses, 

Once only you gladden each year; 
But youth, with its beautiful visions. 

Lives o'er in your warm, sunny cheer. 
'Tis only a dream that is left me, 

To bless me in toiling and pain; 
And, though it may fade with the roses, 

'Twill wake with their blooming again. 

60 



A TINY COMFORTER 

(To Lillian.) 

'T^HE day has been long and o'er full of trouble, 

My spirit was weary, my heart faint and sore; 
Forgetful of others, I pined for a loved one 
Whose frail craft had touched Eternity's shore. 

The bonny blue skies, the sunny June weather. 

The velvety sweetness of roses in bloom, 
All seemingly mocked at my sorrow and grieving 

With color and beauty and dainty perfume. 

I brooded in silence — the golden day faded, 
A wee little toddler that stood at my knee 

Said: "Rock me, sweet mamma, and sing 'by-o-baby' 
And sing of the birdies asleep in the tree." 

I folded the little one close to my bosom 
And looked in her eyes so tender and true; 

Her dimpled arm stole 'round my neck as she murmured, 
"No mamma was ever so p'ecious as wow." 

And somehow, the shadows and heartachings Vanished 
And courage came forth with her innocent speech; 

The lesson so hard, well-nigh beyond learning. 
Was one that only my baby could teach. 

Tho' Time, the magician, has transformed my baby 

Into a maiden so stately and tall — 
She often declares with all her old fondness, 

"My mother is sweetest and dearest of all." 

61 



A Tiny Com forter. 

And out of the years that lie intervening, 

A fabric is woA^en of changeable hue; 
But bright in the warp and woof of the weaving 

The gold thread of love is shimmering through. 

Oh, while there is one in the wide world to love her- 
As long as one heart beats loyal and true, 

I hold and I know 'tis the sweetest incentive 
A woman can have to dare and to do. 



SOMEWHERE, 

T KNOW, loVe, that somewhere, somewhere, 

You are living my soul's counterpart; 
That somewhere, love, you are waiting, 
And longing for me in your heart. 

I know, love, that somewhere, somewhere, 
You are proving my highest ideal; 

That somewhere, love, all our dreaming, 
Will bloom into beautiful real. 

I know, love, that somewhere, somewhere. 
Our glad souls will touch, dear, at last; 

And we, love, by pure intuition 
Will know all the truth of the past. 

I know, love, that somewhere, somewhere, 
You will find me, tho' leagues lie between; 

For your soul to my soul is calling 
Across all the distance unseen. 

I know, love, that somewhere, somewhere, 
We life's sweetest rapture will know. 

When your soul and my soul together 
Through ages eternal shall go. 

62 



AN EASTER IDYL. 

»n|^IS Easter day, the church is bright 

With lilies in snowy bloom; 
From out their waxen petals white 

There drifts a faint perfume; 
And trembling on the fragrant air 

The organ's deep tones swell, 
While anthems, carols, praise, and prayer 

The same glad story tell. 

"The Lora is risen" — the singer sweet 

Pours out her soul in song; 
"The Lord is risen" all hearts repeat 

In that uplifted throng. 
I close my eyes and list and dream 

In rapture 'kin to pain; 
I rise to heavenly heights supreme 

On that triumphant strain. 

As clearer, grander swells each note — 

"Let all the earth rejoice." 
The souls of lilies seem to float 

On that transcendent voice. 
I lift my eyes, how like a flower 

Her face — or radiant gem — 
Ah, surely 'tis angelic power 

That thrills her grand "Amen." 

Oh, singer sweet, how well I know 

Her own pure womanhood; 
For just one blissful year ago 

We at yon altar stood. 
To my fond heart she is more fair 

Than on our wedding day; 
One silken strand of her bright hair 

Can bind me close for aye. 

■ ;3 



An Easier Idyl. 

Her voice divine enthralls me still 

With all its old-time power, 
And faithfully does she fulfill 

The mission of such dower. 
To shield and love her e'er shall he 

M\' sweetest care alway; 
Oh, may she bless the world and me 

Many an Easter Day! 



TONE PICTURES. 

(To John Philip Sousa.) 

A .S I listen, enchanted, when Sousa is playing, 
'^"^ My fancy, unfettered and light-winged, is straying; 
I airily drift on the rhythmical measures, 
And reVel in music's ethereal treasures. 

He wooes me to meadows where flowers are blowing; 
To shadowy woodlands where brooklets are flowing; 
To mirror-like pools where the moonlight is sleeping, 
And flute- throated birds their love-trysts are keeping. 
I float upon rivers where sunbeams are glancing; 
I wander 'mid bowers where fairies are dancing; 
I hear plaintive winds regretfully sighing, 
A requiem sad that the summer is dying. 

I traverse strange lands 'mid scenes ever shifting; 
'Neath azure blue skies where fleece-clouds are drifting; 
I view Alpine heights where the wind-flower is blowing, 
And the haughty Jungfrau in the sunset is glowing. 

64 



Tone P ictur e s. 

E'en on to the Nile where the lotus is blooming, 
Enthralling the senses with subtle perfuming, 
With petals snow-white, with crimson heart burning, 
A-dreaming and swooning with passionate yearning. 



A change comes over my fancy's creations— 
The darkies are dancing on Southern plantations- 
The "Liberty Bell" bold in triumph is ringing— 
The Salvation Army in chorus is singing. 



Then come vivid pictures, where passion is raging. 
And love, unrequited, a tempest is waging; 
The bugle's reveille the war-note is sounding, 
And boom of artill'ry to echo is bounding. 



Then dainty tone-poems, of tenderest feeling, 
Into the heart come blissfully stealing, 
Till passion and pain and sorrow have ending. 
And o'er the whole world the rainbow is bending. 



Thou versatile weaver of musical rhyming. 

Throughout the broad land thy sweet strains are chiming; 

They come to the heart when twilight is falling, 

Like whip-poor-will notes through the dusky woods calling. 



O minstrel, to thee the multitude listens; 

In eyes bravely calm a tear often glistens; 

And souls that are strengthened with hope for to-morrow 

Will cherish and bless thee, thou healer of sorrow. 

65 



ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 

A IT'S sat upon the steamer's deck, 
* •^ Just you and I together; 

In dreamful mood we idly sailed 
Adrift in summer weather. 

There floated out from verdant shores 
Seductive breaths from bowers, 

Where all day long the south-wind wooes 
The semi-tropic flowers. 

From spicy woods a sweet love-tune 
Across the waves came winging — 

A tender, rapturous madrigal 
The mocking-bird was singing. 



The Western skies grew crimson, gold, 
With sunset's gorgeous glowing, 

Whose radiance was reflected full 
Upon the river's flowing. 

The rippling waves were glory-crowned 
From flaming skies low-bending — 

Rare Orient hues and opal tints 
In most exquisite blending. 

Entranced I gazed upon the scene; 

A strangely subtle feeling. 
Like some delicious melody. 

Into my soul came stealing. 

66 



On the Mississippi, 

The Southern skies, the perfumed wind, 

The river's rhythmic flowing, 
And wild-bird song sweet mischief wrought 

Beneath the sunset's glowing. 

Ah! rovers both were you and I 

Upon that placid river; 
Nor dreamed that Nature's witcheries 

Might set two hearts a-quiver. 

And rovers still, we drift apart, 

But you and I will never 
Quite forget one sweet June eve 

We sailed upon the river. 



THE MAGIC OF APRIL. 

'np'HE last deep sob, the last loud breath 
•*■ Of blust'ry March is hushed to rest; 
The winds that wildly mourned his death 

Are changed to zephyrs in the West. 
They whisper softly of a sprite. 

Fair April, drest in emerald sheen. 
With tender eyes whose amorous light 

Will clothe the fields in living green. 

She breathes upon the orchards bare, 

Till pulses throb with wild delight. 
And buds burst open everywhere 

In dainty blossoms, pink-and-white. 
O'er field and wood she lightly treads, 

Her airy way is laden sweet 
With odors from wild-flower beds — 

An incense offered at her feet. 

67 



The M agic of April. 

She sounds one little note of love, 

And every bird takes up the strain; 
From linnet to the cooing dove, 

All carol in one glad refrain. 
The brook, whose voice has long been still, 

Sings, too, again the old-time song, 
And dances on with rapturous thrill 

To join the river swift and strong. 

The bee and butterfly both seem 

To revel in a feast of flowers; 
The one to work, and one to dream 

Away the sunny, fragrant hours. 
Aye, worker, dreamer, well you show 

The prose, the poesy of life; 
Both are needful— be it so. 

Dame Nature's children feel no strife. 

O whispering winds, O azure skies, 

There is one thing I long to know: 
Why April, with her tender eyes. 

Is counted fickle — is it so? 
Men call her woman, and confess 

They ne'er can know her — which is true — 
A mysteiT— yet they love and bless 

Fair April and sweet woman too! 



**OLD GLORY/* 

A MAGIC abideth steadfast in "Old Glory," 
"^^ Wherever it floats o'er land and o'er sea; 
From temples of justice, from battlements hoary, 
The emblem of freedom it ever shall be. 

68 



''Old Glory.'' 



We gaze on its beauty and think, with emotion, 
Of days of oppression our forefathers knew; 

Those heroes of old, whose whole-heart devotion 
To Liberty gave us the "Red, White, and Blue." 

O symbol majestic, thy blue field reminds us 
Of heaven's vast dome star-gemmed overhead; 

Each crimson-red bar in loyalty binds us 
To memories of blood by our patriots shed. 

O banner of freedom, O flag of progression. 
New stars, new States, is the proud story told; 

For one after one, in rapid succession, 
A century tripled the thirteen of old. 

O glorious ensign, the flag of our Nation, 
Around thee we rally to battle for right; 

To break from their bondage the lowly in station, 
To free them from shackles of error and might. 

O Star-spangled Banner, no warfare inhuman 
Has ever been waged 'neath our standard so true; 

Not conquest of lands, but of hearts; every true man 
For principle strives 'neath the "Red, White, and Blue." 

To "war for humanity" — oh, sweet inspiration! 

American manhood responds to the call. 
And teaches a pitiless mediaeval nation 

That banner of justice must float over all. 

Wave on in thy triumph, wave ever, "Old Glory," 
Thy message of freedom fling wide to the breeze; 

That zephyrs may whisper the beautiful story 
To ends of the earth, to isles of the seas. 



69 



QUEEN VICTORIA. 

I. 

■\ 7ICT0RIA the Good! most fitting name, 
^ As three-score years and three a queen dotE prove, 

Thy reign illumined by thy people's love, 
Which adds each year new lustre to thy fame. 
Ere since that midnight hour when couriers came 

To tell thee thou wert queen — when like a dove, 

White-winged, thy prayer sped to that throne abo've, 
To merit love has been thy constant aim. 
In girlhood's sunny prime the call to wear 

Great Britain's crown — to take the helm of State — 

To meet a sovereign's uncertain fate. 
Might well have awed a soul less young and fair. 

But, even then, each British heart, I ween. 

Was leal and true to "Merrie England's" Queen. 



II. 

Victoria the Good! — of world renown; 

Triumphant o'er the seas thy banners float; 

Thy proud dominion reaches lands remote, 
So vast the setting set can ne'er go dov/n 
On them. But 'tis not radiance of a crown, 

Nor fair domains of far-off land and sea 

That draws humanity so close to thee. 
But something greater far thy reign has shown: 
A woman's heart so tender, so serene. 

So rich in every pure and precious gem 

Of which Love weaves a fairer diadem 
And crowns thee wife and mother — more than queen! 

Queen-Empress, to thy royal womanhood 

We homage pay — Victoria the Good. 

70 



REQUIESCAT. 

(In memory of Miss Frances E. Willard.) 

A LOVED one gone! A gentle soul at rest; 
■^"^ Nor does she heed the tender eyes that weep 
O'er death untimely. Tranquil, sweet her sleep 

As babe's, new-born, upon its mother's breast. 

Such life as hers, so gracious, pure, and blest, 
Needs not a poet's eulogy to keep 
Her in remembrance. Future years shall reap 

The fullness of a harvest yet unguessed! 

Her wondrous power the magic of her love, 
Appealed to human hearts and bade them stand 
Steadfast "for God and home and native land," 

"With blessed hope of gaining realms above. 
She entered Heaven amid triumphant song, 
Ambassador of earth's white-ribboned throng! 

LIFE'S HEROINES. 

(In memory of E. J. M.) 

nPHE heroines of life, the real, the true, 
^ Are seldom those of whom the world sings praise; 

Unheralded they walk secluded ways. 
With ready heart and willing hands to do 
The duty nearest them. Yet to these come, 

As just reward, the sweetest joys of earth; 

To guard with mother-love the sacred hearth 
And keep aflame the Vestal fires of home. 
Such lot was hers, this gentle, patient one; 

She did what good she might from day to day, 

In unpretentious, quiet. Christian way, 
And nobly earned the blessed Lord's "Well done." 

A husband's heart in her did safely trust, 

And children's loVe enshrine her precious dust. 

71 



CRABAPPLE BLOSSOMS. 

(Emblematic flower of Missouri.) 

C WEET, dainty crabapple blossoms, 
*^ How often fair April has kissed 
Wide-open your chalice of perfume — 

No sprite your charms could resist; 
For ever you blushingly herald 

This amorous goddess of spring, 
While deep in your beautiful bowers 

Birds, mating, their love-carols sing. 

The wandering bees, and the children — 

Aye, the bright-winged butterflies, too, 
Have always loved you, sweet blossoms, 

And found you wherever you grew. 
Tho' doomed, like the fair desert lily, 

To modestly bloom and to wait, 
A proud commonwealth has well chosen 

In you its symbol of State. 

History, poetry, and romance, 

All tell of the marvelous power 
That speaks in the wordless language 

Of a tiny, still-voiced flower. 
And exquisite legends are woven 

Of Corsican violets blue; 
Of Scotland's purple- fringed thistles, 

Red roses, and white lilies too. 

O fragrant, pink-and-white blossoms. 

No story of bloodshed you hold; 
No glimmer of royalty's purple 

Your beautiful petals unfold; 
But fresh from the bosom of Nature, 

Unstoried, unsung still thou art; 
Wearing the blush of a maiden's cheek" 

And the purity of her heart, 

72 



THANKSGIVING AT THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 



'HP WAS Thanksgiving Eve, and the old homestead 

^ Was bright with its forthcoming cheer; 
With snowiest linen the table was spread 

For the happiest feast of the year; 
And merriest, too, for to-morrow would bring 

A bright-eyed, rollicking throng. 
And "grandpapa's house" to the rafters would ring 

With innocent laughter and song. 

II. 

A peep in the pantry revealed a great store 

Of good things for Thanksgiving fare; 
Cookies and doughnuts and mince pies galore. 

The turkey and cranberries were there; 
And rosy-cheeked apples, and russets so brown, 

Sweet cider just fresh from the mills, 
And nuts from the woodland — Jack Frost shook them down. 

As he scampered pell-mell o'er the hills. 

III. 

The big sitting-room, so cozy and bright, 

Was a bower of beauty and bloom; 
Chrysanthemums yellow and crimson and white 

Shed o'er it their spicy perfume, 
And lifted their fronded petals so fair, 

November's last blossoms so sweet, 
And seemed to put on a festival air 

The home-coming children to greet. 

73 



Thanksgiving at the Old Homestead. 

IV. 

Here in the soft glow of the warm fireliglit 

Sat good Farmer Brown and his wife — 
Both dreamful, yet rev'rently thankful to-nigfit 

For blessings that crowned all their life: 
"Yes, Mother, the Lord has prospered us much; 

He has blest us in basket and store; 
Has shielded us ever from poverty's touch, 

And death has ne'er entered our door. 

V. 

"The children — well, all, except Charley, you know, 

Are married, and settled near by; 
But Charley would rove, the farm was too slow— ^ 

There, never mind, dearest — don't cry. 
Why, Charley 's all right; he 's a good fellow too; 

I 've thought of him nearly all day; 
Cheer up, little Mother, he '11 come back to you. 

No more from the old farm to stray." 

VI. 

"But, Father," the wife said, drying her tears, 

"I long for our boy so to-night; 
All day I have thought of the old happy years 

That seem now so sunny and bright; 
And I could not refrain, as the table I spread, 

For our children and grandchildren too — 
'I know not, my boy, where you may be,' I said, 

'But I '11 just lay a plate down for you.' " 

74 



Thanksgiving at the Old Homestead. 

VII. 

There came, as the clock chimed the hour for repose. 

A rap at the door, sharp and quick; 
Farmer Brown from his arm-chair straightway arose; 

"I fear, wife, some neighbor is sick." 
And hastening to find who the comer might he, 

The wife following after apace, 
He opened the door, expecting to see 

A friendly, familiar-like face. 

VIII. 

But there in the light of the November moon, 

A stranger stood, tall and well dressed — 
A traveler benighted, and begging the boon 

Of a night's entertainment and rest. 
"Come in, sir; you 're welcome," the good farmer said. 

The stranger stepped into the room — 
Into the glow of the firelight so red. 

And scent of chrysanthemums' bloom. 



IX. 



He took off his hat, and overcoat too, 

And tossed them both carelessly by; 
Then turned himself lightly around to full view 

With twinkling and mischievous eye. 
"Oh, Father, it's Charley!" the fond mother cried. 

Her wistful eyes brimming with joy; 
"Well, well, so it is!" the father replied; 

"Welcome home, thrice welcome, my boy!" 



75 



Thanksgiving at the Old Homestead. 

X. 

When greetings were over, there by the fireside 

The three sat again as of old; 
The old people listened to the truant with pride 

As roving adventures he told: 
Of life in a mining-camp out in the West, 

Of claims he had "staked off" and sold. 
Of his mascot, "The Nellie," one of Cripple Creek's best, 

That brought him a fortune in gold. 



XI. 



'Twas Thanksgiving Day and the old homestead 

Was bright with its hearty good cheer; 
With savory viands the table was spread 

For the happiest feast of the year. 
Here were all the children and grandchildren too — 

No wandering feet were astray; 
And grateful hearts felt that blessings anew 

Were crowning that Thanksgiving Day. 



UTAH AND HER EMBLEMATIC FLOWER. 

THE SEGO LILY. 
7 OR ages and cycles unguessed, and unknown. 

Dame Nature sat sceptered and crowned on her throne. 
In majesty awful, in splendor and power — 
The mountains her empire, their treasures her dower. 
In silence she reigned in heart of Utah, 
With never a mortal to question her law; 
An absolute monarch, unchallenged her sway, 
She regally ruled the night and the day. 

76 



U t ah and Her Emblematic Flower. 

She looked on the mountains, white-hooded with snow. 
Reflecting the glory of sun's dying glow; 
She gazed on the water, an emerald sheet 
Replendent, that lay like a gem at her feet. 
But lifeless and cold were the valleys afar, 
And silent the night, with moonbeam and star; 
"O children of men, come to me, I pray!" 
The mother-heart cried in Nature one day. 

On winds, airy-winfeed, that call of the wild 

Went straight to the soul of one sturdy child; 

A leader of pilgrims ~a pioneer band— 

Who saw, as in vision, the fair "promised land." 

So, out o'er the prairies, a caravan train, 

In white-covered schooners, crept over the plain; 

Through dangers and hardships, with courage divine, 

They reared in the desert their altar and shrine. 

Why tell of conditions untoward and new? 
Of forces repellant and hard to subdue? 
Of toils and of trials? But rather relate 
How, rearing an altar, ihey founded a State! 

Let sleeping decades their history hold, 
Their story of pathos can never be told— 
But Utah to-day triumphantly stands 
With banner of State unfurled in her hands— 
A banner whose dual-like symbols impart 
The dominant spirits that live in her heart- 
Purity, Industry— lily and hive- 
Foundations on which great commonwealths thrive. 

Far back in the days when Utah was new. 
And pioneers striving the soil to subdue. 
They planted their seeds, but each tender shoot 
By ravenous insects was nipped at the root. 

77 



Utah and Her Emblematic Flower 

Just then, from the coast, to the isles of the lake, 
Came seagulls a-wing, their love-nests to make. 
And casting about them for morsels of food, 
The pests fell a prey to them and their brood. 

Did Destiny plan that these birds of the sea 
An ally and helpmate to mankind should Tae? 
For over this land, where they vanquished man's foes, 
The Sego Lily in beauty arose! 

O child of the desert, O pioneer flower, 

You whispered of hope in a 'desolate hour. 

You tossed out your fragrance, and gave heart of grace, 

Infinite love in your petals to trace. 

Now, day after day, the honey-bees sup 
The nectar distilled in your pure waxen cup. 
You bloom at the altar, you bloom at the grave — 
In Utah's banner, immortal, shall wave! 



REX McDonald. 

'T^HOU splendid creature of the equine race, 
■^ Blue-ribboned winner of the saddle ring, 
Fleet-footed as a swallow on the wing. 

Embodiment of beauty, strength and grace! 

I saw thee skim, in many-gaited pace, 
Across the tan -bark like some feathered thing 
Afloat in air, so noiseless was thy spring, 

With coat resplendent as a mirror's face; 

And as I gazed, my fancy drifted fast 
Adown the ages, and to myself I said: 
"How many million years, Time, have sped 

In evoluting such a form at last?" 

For Nature, as the cycling years have wrought, 
In Rex McDonald speaks her perfect thought. 

78 



A MEMORY. 

nPHE dark pulsating river and the night, 
A purple dome, ji star-bespangled sky; 
With long reflected lines of trembling light, 
Off from the piers that rear their heads so high. 

Half-way between two heavens swayed our boat, 
Ihe depths below the heavens above gave back; 

And through a realm of stars we seemed to float. 
Flecked ripples trailed along the vessel's track. 

Oh, how the Present stretched away before us! 

The Past lay 'neath the water's, shadowy flow; 
The Future loomed far in the heaVens o'er us; 

The 2VoM) was sweet, what better could we know? 

We did not call the ghosts of dreams long perished 
Up from their dark, mysterious water-bed; 

We reached not out for dreams the future cherished. 
That held their secrets in the dome o'erhead. 

All was the Present, with its purple glory. 
As hung our boat midway 'twixt sky and sky; 

What matter if they both be full of story— 
If earth be cold and wide, if Heaven high? 

O glorious night, O dark, pulsating river, 
ghostly lights that shimmer from the shore, 

Still hold thy dreamful mysteries forever, 
As doth the soul its own forevermore! 



79 



A SWEET SOUTHERN BLOSSOM 

(To a beautiful little girl.) 

A S we look in the face of this fair little maid, 
'^"^ A face that is sweet as the heart of a rose, 
We see only sunshine, with never a shade, 

Nothing but sweetness the features disclose. 
In the coquettish poise of the queenly young head, 

III the perfect repose of the exquisite face. 
In the faiiy-like form, in the manner well-bred. 

The blood of patricians we readily trace. 

The saucy love-god has printed his bow 

In the rose-tinted curves of the beautiful mouth; 
With a smile that is warm as the zephyrs that blow 

Sun-kissed 'neath skies of her own sunny South. 
The dark dreaming eyes are deep limpid wells, 

In whose fathomless depths hearts countless will fall; 
For the strongest must yield to witchery's spells, 

And often are led by hands that are small. 

O fair little maiden, 'tis beauty like thine 

Thai ever inspires the poet to sing; 
That fills the true artist with glory divine 

When he onto the canVas his ideal can bring: 
'Tis the image the sculptor e'er sees in the stone. 

In the heart of the marble unchiseled and white, 
Whose finished perfection will doubly atone 

For unceasing toil by day and by night. 

Truly is beauty the most charming dower, 

That Nature can on her daughters bestow; 
A magnet that draws all hearts by its power, 

And brings sweetest blessing or bitterest woe. 
And fondly we trust that thy gift shall prove 

Of loftiest type that will grace thee each hour; 
May thy life be illumined with tenderest love, 

As sweet as perfume exhaled from a flower. 

80 



SEA DREAMS. 

(A memory of Coronado Reach.) ^ 

A S restless I toss on my pillow, 
-^ And list to the wind's weird glee, 
A voice siren-sweet from the billow 

Comes wooing me back to the sea. 
And floating away in my dreaming, 

I traverse an Eden-bright land 
And wander again, in my seeming, 

Along by the ocean-swept strand. 

I loiter amid spicy bowers, 

I feel the warm kiss of the breeze, 
All languid with perfume of flowers 

And buoyant with salt of the seas. 
I see the blue skies softly bending, 

Low down to the sea's purple rim, 
There lost in an exqusite blending 

Of violet hues dainty and dim. 

I see the white sails safely nestled. 
Like babes on a fond mother's breast, 

As if never passion had wrestled 
The heart of the sea now at rest. 

Again from a cliff bold and eerie 
I watch the tempestuous main — 

Of peace and of calm grown aweary- 
It struggles in torturous pain! 

81 



Sea Dreams. 

As out from the emerald-green vastness 
The breakers rush madly to shore, 

Torn loose from their fathomless fastness 
They clamor and bellow and roar! 

wind-sprites at play with my fancy, 
How ye revel in elfm-like glee, 

And lure me with sweet necromacy 
Away to the dream-haunted sea! 

What magic is thine, mighty Ocean? 

"What mysteries deep in thee dwell, 
That thrill me with speechless emotion 

And hold me enthralled with a spell? 

1 know not; and yet, in my seeming, 
Infinity whispers to me 

Whenever in truth or in dreaming 
I list to the voice of the sea. 



SONG OF JANUARY. 
I. 



A 



.T silent midnight. 
In garments of white, 
I come to the cold, cold world; 

The sad Old Year 

Lies stretched on his bier, 
From his throne most ruthlessly hurled. 

But scarce do my feet 

Touch wayside or street. 
Ere bells ring out glad and clear. 

For the people all know 

In my garments of snow, 
I bring them the bonny New Year. 

82 



Song of Jamiary, 
II. 

With dimples and smiles 

The youngster beguiles 
The mortals that dwell on the earth, 

And makes them declare 

No day is more fair 
Than that which gives him his birth. 

As human hearts thrill 

With joy and good-will — 
With much in the past to forget— 

They resolve once again, 

Tho' ever so vain. 
The future shall know no regret. 



III. 

With grave eyes they look 

On the snowy-white book, 
The New Year gives one and all; 

The pages so fair 

They stoutly declare 
Shall show no misdeed e'er so small. 

But two-faced I stand. 

And glance o'er the land, 
I see both the future and past, 

And full well I know 

That e'er I shall go, 
A stain on each record will rest. 



83 



Song of January. 

IV. 

human hearfs frail, 
Think not I bewail 

Your weakness; 'tv/ill ever be so; 
For e'en the glad sprite 

1 bring you to-night, 

Will bow to the weight of life's woe. 

His form will grow old. 

His heart will turn cold, 
His pathway with wrecks Fate will strew; 

And e'er chime of bells 

My next coming tells. 
Time's sickle will lay his head low. 



O mortals of earth. 
Before you had birth, 

I viewed this terrestrial ball; 
In Nature's own hands, 
Its waters and lands, 

All wrapped in a shadowy pall; 
She decked it with flowers, 
And beautiful bowers, 

Your own habitation to be. 
The feathery snow, 
The streamlets that flow, 

All whisper her Secrets to me. 



84 



Song of J anuar y. 

VI. 

Both forward and back, 

Behold I life's track, 
Its end from beginning I see — 

Ah! children that grope, 

Betwixt doubt and hope, 
No longer sorrowful be; 

For good Nature stands 

With beckoning hands, 
With mother-heart tender and true; 

When Time in his flight 

Shall whisper, "Good-night." 
'Tis eternal "Good-morning" to you. 



SONG OF MARCH, 
I. 

AN impetuous youth I own that I am. 
Sometimes like a lion, sometimes like a lamb, 
I bluster and blow, 
Bring sunshine and snow. 
And days that are dreary and days that are calm. 

II. 
In passion I storm with a furious rage. 
Destruction alone can my feelings assuage; 

Then humbly I cry, 

And softly I sigh, 
While tender emotions my whole heart engage. 

III. 
There comes after me a maiden so sweet, 
The earth must prepare for her beautiful feet; 

So gently I blow 

Away frost and snow, 
That zephyrs and sunshine fair April may greet 

85 



A^ 



SONG OF APRIL, 

N airy sprite, 
I came one night 
And found the whole world sleeping; 
But ere the morn 
Wild flowers were born, 
And from their beds came peeping. 

I whispered low, 

And yet I know 
The robins must have heard me; 

For all day long, 

With happy song 
And carols glad they cheered me. 

In shady nooks 

I sought the brooks. 
And found them softly singing; 

And fairy hands, 

With magic wands, 
Had set the blue-bells ringing. 

With airy tread 

I lightly sped 
O'er greenly- tinted meadows; 

Where light and shade, 

Like children played. 
The sunlight chasing shadows. 

In every part 

Of Nature's heart 
A spirit glad is resting; 

Where'er I rove. 

In shady grove, 
The mated birds are nesting. 

86 



SONG OF MAY. 

r^ BEAUTEOUS Earth, where mortals dwell, 
^-^ E'en could I stay forever, 
And sing full well I ne'er could tell 
Thy wondrous charms, no never. 



Blossoms, blossoms everywhere. 
They deck the wide world over; 

The gardens fair, the orchards rare, 
And fields of fragrant clover. 



Behind each dainty orchard bloom 
A promised fruit is hiding; 

Within the womb of fallow gloom 
The germs of life are biding. 



The youth and maid unconscious sigh. 
Nor understand their dreaming; 

But I, more wise, see in their eyes 
The light of first love beaming. 



O beauteous Earth, too soon, too soon, 
Thy joys I must be leaving 

For sister June, with soul a-tune, 
Her spell will soon be weaving. 



87 



SONG OF JUNE, 
'T^HE Earth must have known I was coming, 

Or why has she drest herself so, 
And woven my name on her banners 

That dreamily swing to and fro? 
I float in a rapturous languor, 

O'er billows of shimmering grain; 
And drift in the vapory cloudlets, 
And melt them to dew-drops and rain. 

I hide in the silvery moonbeams, 

That flood all the earth with their spell 
Of witchery tender and subtle, 

And many a tale I could tell, 
Of lovers so faithful and trusting — 

But secrets I never betray; 
In fact, sometimes in a whisper 

I hint what is sweetest to say. 

Each rose that I touch with my kisses 

Turns scarlet with blushes divine; 
And those that I bind in my tresses 

Grow golden as meshes they twine; 
But those that I wear on my bosom 

Are fair as the snow-drifts they hide; 
My pure ones, my white ones, no passion 

Shall crimson thy cheeks with its tide. 

Now back to my own sunny bowers 

I go ere the roses shall fall, 
Ere love that is bounding and pulsing 

The heart of all Nature shall pall, 
While zephyrs are laden with perfume. 

And trysting goes on 'neath the moon; 
I glide with a rhythmical measure 

Away from a world all a-tune. 



SONG OF JULY, 
TV/r Y trio of beautiful sisters 

^^^ Have filled the whole world with their song; 
Tho' scarcely I hope to be welcome, 

I promise to tarry not long. 
I sing not of beauty and loving — 

The heart of a soldier have I; 
The deaf'ning boom of a cannon 

Is sweeter to me than a sigh! 

I came long ago to a country, 

A land undeveloped and new. 
Saw a people bowed down by oppression 

That daily more burdensome grew. 
I whispered to statesmen in council: 

"Breah off from that tyrant afar!" 
They rose in the strength of their manhood 

And purchased their freedom with war! 

That country, then weak and so helpless, 

Is now the greatest of earth; 
And dear to the heart patriotic 

The day that gave Liberty birth. 
Each year my "Fourth day" is greeted 

With cannon and drum; and I see 
The time-honored Flag of the Fathers 

Float proud o'er the land of the free! 

Why sing, then, of zephyrs and moonbeams, 

Of roses and lilies a-bloom. 
When odorous incense of powder 

Is sweeter than flowers' perfume? 
My sisters may sing on forever 

Of hearts brimming over with love, 
To me the scream of an eagle 

Is sweeter than coo of a dove. 



AUGUST. 
I. 

T N tropical, voluptuous beauty, 

Mature, she comes with languid air; 

Her eyes are bright with dusky splendor, 
And scarlet poppies crown her hair. 

dream of Nature, realistic, 

Not promised but perfected grace; 
Thy full completeness 
Leaves no sweetness, 

No hope, but lives within thy face. 

II. 

Thy fragrant breath has touched the vineyards, 

Where purple hangs the clustered wine; 
Thy voice has called the youths and maidens 

From peasant homes along the Rhine. 
And as they gather in the vintage 
They whisper low a story sweet. 
And by the light 
Of moonbeams bright 
They chase the hours with dancing feet. 

III. 

O August, draw thou not too near me. 

Lest my blood flow warm as thine; 
The perfume of thy scarlet poppies 

Intoxicates like rare old wine! 
Turn not thy dusky eyes upon me, 
A light within them makes me fear 
Their dreamy splendor, 
Their spell so tender. 
Thou Cleopatra of the year! 

90 



SEPTEMBER. 

A PEACEFUL calm is brooding everywhere, 
And Nature, satisfied, lies still and rests; 
The song of reapers still lingers in the air, 
And song of birds above the empty nests. 
The autumn fruits hang ripe upon the trees, 
And turn their rosy cheeks unto the sun. 
And nod ^ith dreamy languor in the breeze. 
Nor realize that summer days are done. 

The woods are flecked with red and yellow leaves; 

The clouds drift fleecily against the blue, 
Deep ether of the skies till fancy weaves 

Them into floating castles real and true. 
The water-lilies droop their golden heads. 

And nestle in the bosom of the streams; 
While fairies sing around their limpid beds, 

With mystic voice, and lull them to sweet dreams. 

The swallows skim in graceful, curving rings, 

And revel in the mellow, sunlit day; 
Then poise on outspread, quivering wings. 

Till suddenly they dart and flit away. 
The Harvest Moon holds carnival at night; 

She treads her way like some majestic queen 
Along the sky; before her matchless light 

The stars grow dim, and shrink away unseen. 

Each perfect day is full of peace and rest. 
The nights enchanting as a poet's dream; 

No heart of passion throbs in Nature's breast. 
Her placid soul is tranquil and serene. 

91 



SONG OF OCTOBER. 

T COME when Mother Nature 

Is drest in bright array; 
With gold and crimson banners 

She meets me on the way. 
I wander o'er the meadows, 

Where dark-eyed daisies nod; 
O'er blooming fields all spangled 

With feathery golden-rod. 

I linger by the river 

And list its dreamy flow; 
And watch the purple shadows 

That shimmer to and fro, 
I veil the distant hilltops. 

With clouds of misty blue. 
And crown the autumn landscape 

With rich and gorgeous hue. 

I ramble through the forest, 

And shake the ripe nuts down 
Into the laps of children 

With feet still bare and brown; 
I help the busy squirrel 

To gather in his store; 
To feast upon in winter, 

When nutting days are o'er, 

I join the merry maidens 

In sports of Hallowe'en, 
And give them oft in fancy 

A glimpse of the unseen; 
I show each one her lover 

In some mysterious way; 
Oh, dreaming maids will ever 

Revere that m.ystic day! 

92 



Song of October, 

O woodlands gold and crimson, 

O skies of azure blue, 
dreamy, flowing river, 

O misty, purple hue, 
O dark-eyed yellow daisies, 

O blooming goldenrod, 
A fairer world than thine is, 

Ko mortal feet have trod! 



SONG OF NOVEMBER. 

n^HO' cold and gray my skies may be, 
-*■ A few glad things remain for me: 
The holly berries brightly gleam 
Blood-red along the woodland stream; 
Chrysanthemums, with fronded head, 
For me their sweetest perfume shed; 
And o'er the fields from morn till night 
The vocal quails call out, "Bob White!" 

And mortals love me well, I know. 
I bring them gladness ere I go; 
At my behest each wand'rer turns 
Toward the home for which he yearns; 
And dear ones come from far and near 
To share love's bounty and good cheer. 
With muffled feet, Care slips away, 
And blessings crown Thanksgiving Day. 



PEACE. 

A BEAUTIFUL presence lives now in my heart. 
And, tho' I may rove, it does not depart; 
Softly and gently it stole to my breast 
Like fond mother-bird seeking her nest. 
It cannot be Love, for sure if 'tis he. 
He 's lost his bright wings, or else he would flee; 
Has lost, too, his darts, his quiver and stings^ — 
It cannot be LoVe, for thus it sings: 
"0 once-troubled heart, thy sorrows are o'er; 
Henceforth my home is here ever more; 
I '11 soothe all thy woe, will shield thee for aye. 
And drive every tempest of passion away/' 



mystical voice! O magical lay! 
Tender and sweet I hear thee alway; 
Hushing each sigh, and stilling each pain, 

My solace and comfort, ne'er leave me again. 
Like murmur of rills, the cooing of doves. 
Telling in Spring their innocent loves; 
In fancy I get a glimpse of white wings — 

1 know now 'tis Peace by the song she sings: 
"O once-troubled heart, thy sorrows are o'er; 
Henceforth my home is here ever more; 

I '11 soothe all thy woe, will shield thee for aye, 
And drive every tempest of passion away." 



94 



FORGET-ME-NOTS. 

(A Legend.) 

UPON the bosom of an isle 
That nestles in the Danube blue, 
Its margin kissed by rippling waves, 
Some sweet and dainty flow'rets grew. 

Those flowers wild a maiden spied 
As she beside the sun-lit stream 

With newly plighted lover strayed— 

Their souls enrapt in love's young dream. 

"Alas!" the gentle maiden sighed, 
"Those lovely flowers must ever bloom 

And perish far from human hands, 
And in the river make their tomb." 

"Not so," the gallant youth exclaimed, 
"I '11 bring to thee those blossoms fair, 

And weave them into garlands blue 
And twine them in thy sunny hair." 

He sprang into the treach'rous tide — 
In vain she begged of him to stay — 

A handful of the flowers he plucked, 
And shoreward strove to make his way. 

The maiden stood upon the brink. 

And as he neared the blessed spot. 
He cast the flow'rets at her feet, 

And murmured low, "Forget me not!'^ 

95 



Forge i-m e-n ots. 



The cruel waves then bore him down, 
His form was lost beneath the tide; 

The maiden's tears bedewed the flowers 
For which her gallant lover died. 

Ah! little, dainty, blue-eyed flowers, 
No more you bloom in that lone spot; 

In every land your tender eyes 
Are pleading still, "Forget me not!" 



THE LITTLE BROWN HARE. 

(An Easter Legend.) 

T OiNG ago, in the land where the sunny Rhine flows, 
^-^ There brooded a spirit of terror and doom; 
For red-handed War, with its carnage and woes. 
O'er Germany flaunted its banners of gloom. 

A beautiful duchess, with her bonny wee child, 

Then fled from her home in the night's darkest hours; 

To seel: in the fastness of mountains so wild 
The refuge denied in her own castle towers. 

Secluded and safe, and far from the din 
And clashing of armor, she waited secure; 

For kind-hearted peasants all welcomed her in, 
Tho' frugal their fare and scanty their store. 

V/ith rude mountain-folk she sat at the board 
And cheerfully ate of their primitive food; 

No pantry with dainties and sweetmeats was stored, 
No fish, fowl, or game, only herbs from the wood. 

96 



The Little Brown Hare. 

When peace came at last, the glad Easter Day 
Was drawing close by, and the good duchess said: 

"The festival time's near; permit me to stay 
"And share with your children the feast I shall spread." 

A messenger, sent to her castle so grand, 

Came laden with eggs of wonderful hue; 
For he it remembered in that mountain land 

An egg ne'er was seen — if the story is true. 

So under the shade of the juniper trees. 

The quaint little nests of mosses and grass 
Were woven and filled with treasures to please 

Each brave little man and fair little lass. 

How gladly they hunted! How real their delight! 

As each wondrous prize in the soft moss was found; 
Ah! surely the fairies had come in the night 

And scattered their treasures broadcast o'er the ground. 

For there underneath the evergreens' shade 
Such beautiful eggs — green, crimson and blue, 

Red, purple, and yellow — half-hidden were laid, 
A rainbow of colors in eggs wrought anew! 

As gaily they scrambled, with shouts of delight, 

A tiny brown hare ran scampering away 
From under the junipers in sorest affright — 

"We've found the hare's nest!" — cried the children that day. 

Tho' years haVe flown by— some hundreds and more, 
This old German legend is treasured with care; 

And at Easter the little ones search as of yore 
For the wonderful eggs ot the little brown hare. 

97 



VOICES OF LOVE» 

(To Baby Charles.) 

"pACH dainty flower that blossoms 
■■"^ Has a mission to fulfill; 
Each hird that sweetly carols 
Bears a message in its trill. 

Bach brook that softly ripples 

And dances as it goes 
The same sweet tale is telling 

As lightly on it flows. 

'Tis love — the mystic language 

All Nature tries to speak, 
From roar of mighty oceans 

To blue-eyed \^iolets meek. 

'Tis love the zephyrs whisper, 
The loud wind sings it, too; 

The dreaming twilight weeps it 
In silent drops of dew. 

But through the wide world oVer, 
Nought speaks it half so well 

As tongues of little children. 
In bright homes where they dwell. 

So, why should not this baby 

A household angel be? 
For, in truth, the heavenly kingdom 

Is made of such as he! 



98 



LOVE'S MESSENGERS. 

(To Baby Roland.) 

"IITHO can tell us the mission complete 

Of sunbeams radiant with gold, 
Of blessings they scatter throughout the wide world. 
Ere one busy day has been told? 

Who can tell of the birth of the flowers? 

Long centuries waited and wrought, 
Till changing atoms their lesson had learned, 

And blossomed to tell us God's thought. 

Who can tell what a flower may teach? 

No story or sermon or song, 
Has caught all the meaning that hides in a rose, 

That bids us be loving and strong. 

And thus like the sunbeams and flowers, 

Each child has a mission as wise; 
For love, like a flower, blooms in their hearts, 

And beams in their innocent eyes. 

O dear little ones. Love's errant, 

May you to your mission be true; 
And brighten the homes, the hearts, and the lives 

Of those that are faithful to you. 

For you know not the strong cords of love 

You hold in your baby-like hands; 
Nor that souls may be moored in safety above, 

Bound by invisible strands. 



LofC. 



HELEN, 

A GLINT of gold in the sunshine, 
•^ A glimmer of blue in the sky; 
The wind to the buttercup whispers, 
"Sweet May is passing us by." 

"I love her," the violet murmurs; 

"I love her," the bold robin sings; 
"Oh, would that all the world over 

Were one glad season of springs!" 

A fairy-like form in the household, 

With eyes as blue as the sky. 
And fond hearts tenderly whisper, 

"An angel is passing us by." 

She flits through the blossoming gardens, 
"We love her," the bright flowers say; 

"Oh, would that all the world oVer 

Were nothing but childhood and May!" 

A little maid soon will grow stately, 

With eyes as blue as the sky. 
And then will society whisper, 

"A coquette is passing us by." 

"I love you," some fond youth will murmur; 

"Come with me, my sweet one, and stay; 
My heart and the beautiful world over 

la full of Helen and May." 



100 



I 



A TINY QUEEN. 

( lo Marjorie.) 

KNOW a tiny little maid, 



And she is wondrous wise, 
Tho' scarce two years ago she came, 
A cherub from the sMes. 

Now like an airy elfin sprite 

She flits about all day, 
And ne'er was fairy queen, I trow, 

More royal in her sway. 

Where is her kingdom, do you ask? 

In papa's heart it lies. 
And what her sceptre? Only these — 

Two roguish, laughing eyes. 

So full of tenderness and love 
Has been her gentle reign, 

Her loyal subjects ne'er can hope 
To see her like again! 

O tiny queen, sweet Marjorie, 

Oh, may you prove alway 
A blessing to the faithful hearts 

That love you so to-day! 



101 



THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 



npHB Shepherds on Judean hills 
^ Had brought their flocks into the fold; 
They gathered 'round a glowing fire — 

The winter night was crisp and cold. 
They chatted in their simple way 

Till, one by one, they sank to rest, 
To sleep the sweet, refreshing sleep 

With which earth's toiling ones are blest. 



II. 

Close by the gate the watchman walked, 

Wrapped in his cloak of fleecy skin, 
And oft he paused to list and note 

The slightest stir of herds within. 
How oft beneath the silent stars 

He 'd watched his flocks at midnight's hour, 
Nor dreamed of fear; and yet to-night 

He felt the thrill of mystic power! 



III. 

How could he know, this Nature's child, 

That God had chosen him to be 
A witness of that miracle 

Which none but lowly eyes might see? 
He looked aloft to Heaven's dome, 

Begemmed and purple overhead; 
One radiant star slipped from its throne 

And 'cross the darkness slowly sped. 

102 



The Star of Bethlehem, 
rv. 

When lo! eacli hill and mountain side 

Was flooded with a silv'ry light, 
And 'midst the frightened shepherds stood 

An angel clothed in dazzling white! 
"Fear not! A message of great joy 

And tidings glad to you I bring; 
For unto you this day is born 

A Savior who is Christ and King!" 



V. 

E'en as he spoke a radiant host 

Swept down in majesty untold; 
And as they poised on snowy wings, 

They touched their wondrous harps of gold! 
O matchless choir, thy song divine 

Re-echoed through each vale and glen 
Till Nature joined the sweet refrain: 

"Peace &n. earth, good-will to menJ" 



VI. 



O lowly Babe! O Christ-child, King! 

That anthem glad still rings to-day; 
Aye, all the world has caught the strain 

And love holds universal sway. 
The Star of Bethlehem still shines, 

Before whose light doth error flee; 
For truth and everlasting life 

Abide forever. Lord, in Thee. 



103 



AFTERWORD. 

Through rifts in the dense cloud of darkness 

That shrouds all the world like a pall, 
There -flashes a glimpse of the glory 

On humanity destined to fall. 
When Knowledge shall reign, in her beauty, 

Exalted by wisdom and love; 
When ignorance, error, and hatred 

Shall absolute nothingness prove. 

When Mind, the legitimate sovereign, 

Eternal dominion shall hold; 
When Truth, with her unfailing beacon, 

Exposes each dogma of old. 
When Peace, like a white dove, shall nestle 

At home in each turbulent soul; 
When Power invincible, mighty. 

The fountains of life shall control. 

When harmony, vibrant with rapture, 

Shall bind all a-tune with the Law^ 
That Law universal, potential, 

With never a change or a flaw — 
When over the ages of struggles. 

O'er cycles, to senses so real. 
Shall blossom Elysian gardens 

Of dream-haunted realms — the Ideal. 



105 



H17 89 



DEC 19 I904i 












% 












^ *'««oO* ^^-^ 














^°-nf, 










^^<^ 








HECKMAN 
BINDERY INC. p| 

.^^ DPH AA 



